Marty Robbins – The Strawberry Roan: The Untamed Spirit of the West in a Timeless Cowboy Ballad
There are songs that simply play, and then there are the ones that reach deep into the past, pulling up the very dust of the trail and the wind of the plains. Marty Robbins was a maestro of this second kind of song, and his rendition of “The Strawberry Roan” is a perfect, stirring example. It wasn’t merely a track on an album; it was an authentic piece of American folklore, a cowboy poem set to a gentle, loping rhythm that has captivated listeners for generations.
Crucially, this song is not a Marty Robbins original. It’s one of the great classic cowboy songs, originally written as a poem titled “The Outlaw Broncho” by the California cowboy and poet Curley Fletcher and first published way back in 1915. By the time Robbins recorded it for his landmark 1959 album, Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs, the tale was already a staple of the Western repertoire, sung around countless campfires and ranch houses.
As with the entire album, “The Strawberry Roan” benefited from the immense commercial success of the project. While it was not a charting single—that glory belonged to the monumental “El Paso”—it was a vital component of an album that soared to number six on the U.S. Pop albums chart and cemented Robbins’ reputation as the preeminent Western balladeer. His version, track seven on the original LP, is often cited by purists and historians as the definitive, most dramatic recording of the tune.
The magic of the song lies in its narrative, delivered by Robbins with that smooth, conversational tone that made him feel like a trusted companion sharing a yarn. It tells the humorous, yet ultimately humbling, story of a braggadocious bronc fighter—a professional horse breaker—who wanders into a ranch, out of a job but full of confidence. He boasts, “A bronc never lived that I couldn’t fan,” and readily accepts the ten dollars offered to tame a notoriously wild horse.
The great dramatic turn comes when the cowboy is introduced to his adversary. The eponymous Strawberry Roan is described in loving, mock-derisive detail: spavined legs, pigeon toes, little pig eyes, a Roman nose, and a large brand on his hip. He looks like a pitiful wreck, lulling the listener (and the cowboy) into a false sense of security. But then comes the punchline: “I could see with one eye, he’s a regular outlaw.”
The ensuing verses are a vivid, fast-paced account of the ride that goes spectacularly wrong. Robbins’ voice perfectly conveys the escalating chaos, detailing the horse’s legendary bucking skills—turning his belly up to the sun in a “sun-fishin’ son-of-a-gun” move, hitting on all fours, and spinning like a top. The cowboy loses his hat, loses his stirrups, and is finally launched skyward in a “phenomenal jump,” returning to earth with a crash. The humor is self-deprecating and profound, ending with the defeated cowboy’s honest admission that “the hosses I ain’t able to ride, is some of them living, they haven’t all died.”
For the older generation, this song is more than entertainment. It is a powerful allegory for the unpredictable challenges of life itself. It’s about being certain of your own strength and skill, only to meet a force of nature that simply cannot be mastered. The Strawberry Roan is the indomitable spirit, the untamed wilderness, the one insurmountable task that teaches a man humility. It’s a cherished memory for many, a melody tied to a time when Westerns were on every screen and the values of grit, honesty, and a good story were passed down like heirlooms. Listening to Robbins’ warm, clear voice makes you remember sitting quietly, completely absorbed by the tale, nodding in appreciation for the man who learned that some battles are simply not meant to be won, and that there’s an honest dignity in admitting defeat.