Well, he walks out in the arena   All dressed up to the brim   Said he'd just came down from a place   Called 'Highland Rim'      Well, he said he came to ride the horse   The one they call 'The Brute'   But he didn't look like a cowboy   In his Continental Suit      We snickered at the way he dressed   But he never said a word   He walks on by the rest of us   As if he hadn't heard      A thousand bucks went to the man   Who could ride this wild cayuse   A meaner horse was never born   Than the one they called 'The Brute'      The horse that he was looking for   Was in chute number eight   He walked up very slowly   Put his hand upon the gate      We knew he was a thoroughbred   When he pulled his sack of 'Dukes'   From the inside pocket   Of his Continental Suit      Well, he rolled hisself a 'Corley'   And he lit it standing there   Blew himself a smoke ring   And he watched it disappear      We thought he must be crazy   When he opened up the gate   Standing just inside was   Fifteen hundred pounds of hate      The Buckskin tried to run him down   But the stranger was too quick   He stepped aside and threw his arms   Around the horse's neck      And pulled himself up on the back   Of the horse they called 'The Brute'   Sit like he was born there   In his Continental Suit      'The Brute's' hind-end was in the air   His front end on the ground   Kickin' and a-squealin', tryin' to   Shake this stranger down      But the stranger didn't give an inch   He came to ride 'The Brute'   And he came to ride the Buckskin   In a Continental Suit      Well, I turned around to look at Jim   And he was watchin' me   He said, "I don't believe   The crazy things I think I see"      "But I think I see the outlaw   The one they call 'The Brute'   Ridden by a cowboy   In a Continental Suit"      'The Brute' came to a stand-still   Ashamed that he'd been rode   By a city cowboy in   Some Continental clothes      The stranger took his money   And we don't know where he went   We don't know where he came from   And we haven't seen him since      The moral of this story   Never judge by what they wear   Underneath some ragged clothes   Could be a millionaire      Everybody listen   Don't be fooled by this galoot   This sure 'nough bronc buster   In a Continental Suit