It’s an obsession, I can’t stop
(I keep doing it and I never get tired of it)
doing the hop.
(I keep doing it and I never get tired of it)
doing the hop.
I should just go clip-pity-clop
like some old lame dray horse, but
I keep on tripping, I can’t stop.
like some old lame dray horse, but
I keep on tripping, I can’t stop.
Do they think they can tie me with a rope?
No, I’ll prance the whole wide desert,
doing the hop
No, I’ll prance the whole wide desert,
doing the hop
to tune my hoof-soles, traveling with my troop.
There’s hot dust in my nose, but I put up with it—
it’s an obsession, I can’t stop
There’s hot dust in my nose, but I put up with it—
it’s an obsession, I can’t stop
roaming these valleys and these hilltops
and these canyonlands—my old-paint-hoss
hide doing the hop
like a jumping bean on a table top—and these canyonlands—my old-paint-hoss
hide doing the hop
table-top mesa, that is, to earn my just desserts.
It’s an obsession, I can’t stop
my hop.
It’s an obsession, I can’t stop
my hop.
