Cop on a horse, cop on a horse, he’s the pride of the force, he’s the cop on a horse. The only thing tougher than a regular fed is the one that’s sitting four feet above your head.
Let’s see him on a high-speed chase. Bring that horse out to the interstate. Thought I’d test his muster so I went and yanked his tail. Then I sped off in my Duster with the horse hot on my trail. Now he’s at a gallop and he’s riding jockey-style, whipping and waving me over all the while. With rider’s grace he tames the beast, his long scarf flapping in the breeze, and all too clearly I now see that I must use some strategy. So I slam it into fourth, push the Duster to its max, and head straight for the embankment over by the freighter tracks. To the service road, the pedal to the floor, I hit the ramp and jump the tracks like I’ve always done before. But when I check the rearview and start patting my own back I see the cop jumping the freight train that’s come barreling down the tracks. He’s one tough cookie, I concede, but it seems that this horse is built for speed. So I head down El Tercero with its twisting downhill curves and I think to myself that now’s the time that cop on horse gets served. My car swerving forty and the horse full tilt, I slam on the brakes at the bottom of the hill. The cop goes flying and the horse takes a spill, and the rear window shatters but time stands still as visions flash through the horse’s mind of the old glue mill. I speed off and they might catch me, but I don’t think they will, cause the cops are out looking for some horseshoes to fill, after they get back from the horse’s funeral.
Cop on a horse, cop on a horse, he’s the pride of the force, he’s the cop on a horse. The only thing tougher than a regular fed is the one that’s riding a horse that’s dead.