DON'T TELL MAMA
Don't tell Mama I'm a guitar picker, she thinks I'm just in jail.
I been dreamin' up lines and ringin' up rhymes and raisin' all kinds of hell.
Break Mama's heart if she saw me singin' with my hair in a ponytail,
so don't tell Mama I'm a guitar picker, she thinks I'm just in jail.
I used to be a good ol' boy, a clean cut kid, Mama's pride and joy,
never stayed out late, never raised no kinda cane.
Then I bought me an old guitar and started out pickin' in a smoky bar,
if Mama finds out I've gone this far, she'll be hangin' her head in shame, so...
Mama loves her youngest son, but if she ever saw me on stage with Gary P. Nunn,
she's be plowin' up my corn with a double shovel,
but I love those neon lights, and those sexy, sultry Texas nights.
If Mama finds out what I'm doin' with my life, good God, there's gonna be trouble, so...
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