Sweet Mama Papa's Getting Mad
Fred Rose, George A. Little, Peter L. Frost
So my sweet mama packed her bag and started away
She said she's leaving town
Now if I had only thought and asked her to stay
She might have set that satchel down
Well I'm feeling awfully lonesome and blue
Since my mama went away
Now if I had only thought and asked her to stay
She might have set that satchel down
Sweet mama, papa's getting mad
I know the sweetest peaches don't grow on trees
I know the sweetest honey don't come from the bees
I'm tired of listening to your corrections
You'd better find some good protection
Sweet mama, papa's done gone mad
I never thought I'd ever feel so bad
You flirted with the butcher; you flirted with the baker
Now you're flirting with the undertaker
Sweet mama, papa's done gone mad
(break)
Sweet mama, papa's done gone mad
I never thought I'd ever feel so bad
You flirted with the butcher; you flirted with the baker
Now you're flirting with the undertaker
Sweet mama, papa's done gone mad
Fred Rose, George A. Little, Peter L. Frost
So my sweet mama packed her bag and started away
She said she's leaving town
Now if I had only thought and asked her to stay
She might have set that satchel down
Well I'm feeling awfully lonesome and blue
Since my mama went away
Now if I had only thought and asked her to stay
She might have set that satchel down
Sweet mama, papa's getting mad
I know the sweetest peaches don't grow on trees
I know the sweetest honey don't come from the bees
I'm tired of listening to your corrections
You'd better find some good protection
Sweet mama, papa's done gone mad
I never thought I'd ever feel so bad
You flirted with the butcher; you flirted with the baker
Now you're flirting with the undertaker
Sweet mama, papa's done gone mad
(break)
Sweet mama, papa's done gone mad
I never thought I'd ever feel so bad
You flirted with the butcher; you flirted with the baker
Now you're flirting with the undertaker
Sweet mama, papa's done gone mad