This is the story of Tweedle-O-Twist and a cowboy that I knew named Tony. From Blythe, Fresno, Old San Joe, Washuga, Rodeo, Pendleton, San Ann, Baker, Bozeman, and Burley. From Chamber to Payson, Rapid City to Akron, we'd sing just to ease all the hurts that we'd gain. A bandage to wrap the aches and a few turns of tape held us together and stopped the blood stain. Well, sometimes we'd draw bad in a stock-wooden buck and there was times when the luck wasn't going our way. But a credit card that I'd found would get us to the next town with just a switch of his Montana plates. I remembered Evanston when a bull broke his arm and we had to make it on into Beulah the next day. I broke out the CB and the only Dr. Tony scene was me in a can of ether there in the Beulah chute gates. And it was at Louisville that I went down in the well and a suicide wrap I held in my hand. The clown just shook his broom while I dangled near doom. It was Tony that saved my life then. Then a year from that week we pulled up at Mesquite where I drew number 12 from the herd. And Tony, my sidekick, pulled Tweedle-O-Twist, that bull's famous from Prairie to Evansburg. All right now, cowboys, kind of clear the way. Let that ambulance through there. Let that ambulance on through. Looks like a pretty bad wreck out there, folks. Hold up, folks. We got one more ride left down there in the chutes. Wait a minute. It looks like we're turning old number 12 out. So that's all for today, folks. I'll finish the story of Tweedle-O-Twist and a cowboy that I knew named Tony. From Sterling to Abilene, Loveland to New Orleans, I've got a new partner traveling with me. But I never could explain why I called him the wrong name. When I get drunk I call him Tony. And sometimes he'll ask me why I passed Montana by. You know at Butte they got money. But that's where I met him, my sidekick and friend. I've got more than enough of his memories. For down in the skeet there's a cowboy sleeping where bulls ain't a-bucking, ain't a-bucking old Tony.