Little Happy Clouds

(A country ballad, sung slowly)

There once was a man, grizzled and free,
He shot from the hip, and he kicked from the knee.
Never once did he hold, his tongue or his hat,
10 gallons of fury, a pristine Stetson at that.

Football came calling, and ol' Bum hopped on board,
Hopped in his pickup truck, an old beat up Ford.
His name became known, as a tough S, O, B,
Ol' Bum they would say, he's legen-dar-y.

Others would grumble, his name was an apt way to say,
That this old cowpoke from Texas, was a step from the grave.
But never did this man, speak ill of another,
Unless it was his wife, or maybe his mother.

Oh Bum, Oh Bum, why did you say that?
Oh Bum, Oh Bum, why did you say that?
Your voice bangs out loudly, like the sounds from a drum,
And this is our salute, the Ballad of Bum.


To Houston he traveled, an oilman in spirit,
He'd tame those wild horses, the AFC he'd clear it.
A mind just as sharp, as the wit that sprang from it,
And the football gods smiled, but never has he won it.

To the Bayou he went, his trusty 10 gallon in tow,
Though like a gentleman he removed it, in the Dome just to show,
That for all of the bluster, and coarse words that were spoken,
Bum Phillips was a man, whose spirit couldn't be broken.

From the fields of  East Texas, a life on a tractor,
Came a man that might even, enjoy the O'Reilly Factor.
But that doesn't mean, that Bum wasn't cool,
He just was a man, that didn't suffer no fools.

Oh Bum, Oh Bum, why did you say that?
Oh Bum, Oh Bum, why did you say that?
Your voice bangs out loudly, like the sounds from a drum,
And this is our salute, the Ballad of Bum.