Every year in early December
as long as I can remember
a lot of folks pack up and go
to a place where there ain’t no snow.

We load up our stuff and when time comes to leave,
I pull a long face as I worry with grief
for me to spend weeks in the neighboring state
I ought to stay home - I’ve got cookies to bake.

So off we go southbound on I-fifteen
truckin’ this ol’ rig easy, no stop in between.
Just a six hour drive, ain’t that bad at all
and once I am here I reckon we’ll have a ball.

For ten days we turn this town known as Sin City
into a huge sea of Resitols, a sight that’s so pretty.
I know rodeo folks is a breed of it’s own
but the friendships are deeper as I’ve ever known.