Song parody of
Ballad of Bruce McClain
by Buck Young
Here's where you get creative! Use our cool song parody creator to make a totally new musical idea and lyrics for the Ballad of Bruce McClain song by Buck Young.
Simply click on any word to get rhyming words suggestion to use instead of the original ones. You may also remove or alter entire lines if needed — when you're done save your work and share it with our community — have fun!
On a dull summer night in dirty Bawlmer town
Sat with the German and Big Bully after all the bars closed down
It was a night like many others in that the three of us were there
But this fateful evening, lust to wander filled the air
Conversation went to other towns as conversatin' do
From Jacksonville to Oakland town to Kalamazoo
Yeah we sat there wondering just what the hell to do
Big Bully one point went and said I've had it with this dump
All these smart mouthed talkers treat me like a chump
There ain't no proper reason for us to stay right here
Then he plopped back down onto the ground and cracked another beer
I said there's money west for those with gall to ride the rail
There's tons of work out there if you don't want no martingale
The German spoke and that young bloke said "might too good to be true
But all you do Bill is drink your fill and I've had it here with you"
Big Bully threw his hat down and said what are you implyin'
And the rest of us came after with our hootin' and our cryin'
Til we found ourselves at the hop out spot waitin for the train to side
And that's how three young tramps set out on that westbound ride
Across the burning prairies northwestward we did go
Thru the god forsaken country of minnesote-o
Somewhere after Fargo we three feared our brakes would fail
When after dark we heard our old engine shake rattle and wail
But I know my engine's alright, she's the US Mountain kind
My old engine rocks as she travels through the night
It was in the glowing twlilight with Montana on my breath
That I swore my life on the BNSF
In Havre we unloaded and went down to the saloon
It was there we met Old Bruce with teeth as yellow as the moon
A lonesome ex-conductor, he paid our tab and took us in
Told us his only son was combat wounded in Afghanistan
A few rounds of drinks in, the German turned to me
Said now I don't like the cut of this fella's misery
He seems pretty decent but been dealt a hard hand on his luck
And if we dawdle here too long I think that we'll be fucked
Big Bully shrugged him off, said can't we only be so kind
To humor this old timer for a night, well all be fine
I said "well boys I'm partial to being sported out this way
A day or two of free booze and food and we'll be on our way"
Woke up the next morning, Montana sun shone down
Old Bruce pulled up his big blue truck and drove us all around
He seemed to have so many friends in his small town mountain home
We wondered why the way he drives made us think of him alone
He took us joyriding with his priest friend on the Res
All the while drinkin hard, to which we acquiesced
He said "I'm gonna drink my whiskey, I'm gonna drink it and win
Doctor said it'd kill me but he never said when!"
A drinkin of the whiskey, to pass the time away
But "get the jump on me" that distant whistle seemed to say
The German dropped a hint that we should sneak off in the night
Big Bully wanted to make sure that old Bruce was treated right
So we went to bid goodbye to our old conductor friend
But Old Bruce, he didn't like the fact that our time was at an end
He cursed our names for leaving, that troubled luckless man
He said get the hell out of my town or I'll kill you if I can!
He went down to the train yard in a heated drunken spell
And told every man to hunt us down and throw us in a cell
For we were dangerous tramps, with guns and knives we roved the rails
And the only place for folk like us was in the county jail
Thank God for timely freight trains that fly the high line as they will
If she hadn't kept right down the line, we'd be in Montana still
She kept right on down the mountain, as her whistle pierced the air
And we left that god forsaken town and Old Bruce to his despair
So if you meet a man in Havre and old Bruce is his name
Beware the whiskey turns on him and he'll turn on you the same
On a dull summer night in dirty Bawlmer town
Sat with the German and Big Bully after all the bars closed down
It was a night like many others in that the three of us were there
But this fateful evening, lust to wander filled the air
Conversation went to other towns as conversatin' do
From Jacksonville to Oakland town to Kalamazoo
Yeah we sat there wondering just what the hell to do
Big Bully one point went and said I've had it with this dump
All these smart mouthed talkers treat me like a chump
There ain't no proper reason for us to stay right here
Then he plopped back down onto the ground and cracked another beer
I said there's money west for those with gall to ride the rail
There's tons of work out there if you don't want no martingale
The German spoke and that young bloke said "might too good to be true
But all you do Bill is drink your fill and I've had it here with you"
Big Bully threw his hat down and said what are you implyin'
And the rest of us came after with our hootin' and our cryin'
Til we found ourselves at the hop out spot waitin for the train to side
And that's how three young tramps set out on that westbound ride
Across the burning prairies northwestward we did go
Thru the god forsaken country of minnesote-o
Somewhere after Fargo we three feared our brakes would fail
When after dark we heard our old engine shake rattle and wail
But I know my engine's alright, she's the US Mountain kind
My old engine rocks as she travels through the night
It was in the glowing twlilight with Montana on my breath
That I swore my life on the BNSF
In Havre we unloaded and went down to the saloon
It was there we met Old Bruce with teeth as yellow as the moon
A lonesome ex-conductor, he paid our tab and took us in
Told us his only son was combat wounded in Afghanistan
A few rounds of drinks in, the German turned to me
Said now I don't like the cut of this fella's misery
He seems pretty decent but been dealt a hard hand on his luck
And if we dawdle here too long I think that we'll be fucked
Big Bully shrugged him off, said can't we only be so kind
To humor this old timer for a night, well all be fine
I said "well boys I'm partial to being sported out this way
A day or two of free booze and food and we'll be on our way"
Woke up the next morning, Montana sun shone down
Old Bruce pulled up his big blue truck and drove us all around
He seemed to have so many friends in his small town mountain home
We wondered why the way he drives made us think of him alone
He took us joyriding with his priest friend on the Res
All the while drinkin hard, to which we acquiesced
He said "I'm gonna drink my whiskey, I'm gonna drink it and win
Doctor said it'd kill me but he never said when!"
A drinkin of the whiskey, to pass the time away
But "get the jump on me" that distant whistle seemed to say
The German dropped a hint that we should sneak off in the night
Big Bully wanted to make sure that old Bruce was treated right
So we went to bid goodbye to our old conductor friend
But Old Bruce, he didn't like the fact that our time was at an end
He cursed our names for leaving, that troubled luckless man
He said get the hell out of my town or I'll kill you if I can!
He went down to the train yard in a heated drunken spell
And told every man to hunt us down and throw us in a cell
For we were dangerous tramps, with guns and knives we roved the rails
And the only place for folk like us was in the county jail
Thank God for timely freight trains that fly the high line as they will
If she hadn't kept right down the line, we'd be in Montana still
She kept right on down the mountain, as her whistle pierced the air
And we left that god forsaken town and Old Bruce to his despair
So if you meet a man in Havre and old Bruce is his name
Beware the whiskey turns on him and he'll turn on you the same
