Mama Bake a Pie, Papa Kill a Chicken Songtext
von Bobby Bare
Mama Bake a Pie, Papa Kill a Chicken Songtext
People starin′ at me as they wheel me down the ramp toward my plane
The war is over for me, I've forgotten everything except the pain
Thank you sir and yes sir, it was worth it for the old red, white and blue
And since I won′t be walking I suppose I'll save some money buying shoes
The bottle hidden underneath the blanket over my two battered legs
I can see see the stewardess make over me and ask were you afraid
I say, "Why? No, I'm Superman and couldn′t find a phone booth quite in time"
A GI gets a lotta laughs if he remembers all the funny lines
Mama bake a pie, daddy kill a chicken
Your son is comin′ home, 11: 35 Wednesday night
Mama will be crying, daddy's gonna say, "Son, did they treat you good?"
My uncle will be drunk and he′ll say, "Boy, they do some real great things with wood"
The letter that she wrote me said goodbye she couldn't wait and lots of luck
The bottle underneath the blanket feels just like an old friend to my touch
I know she′ll come and see me but I bet she never once looks at my legs
She'll talk about the weather and the dress she wore the July 4th Parade
Lord, I love her and I don′t believe this bottle's gonna get her off my mind
I see here in the paper where they say the war is just a waste of time
Mama bake a pie, daddy kill a chicken
Your son is comin' home, 11: 35 Wednesday night
The war is over for me, I've forgotten everything except the pain
Thank you sir and yes sir, it was worth it for the old red, white and blue
And since I won′t be walking I suppose I'll save some money buying shoes
The bottle hidden underneath the blanket over my two battered legs
I can see see the stewardess make over me and ask were you afraid
I say, "Why? No, I'm Superman and couldn′t find a phone booth quite in time"
A GI gets a lotta laughs if he remembers all the funny lines
Mama bake a pie, daddy kill a chicken
Your son is comin′ home, 11: 35 Wednesday night
Mama will be crying, daddy's gonna say, "Son, did they treat you good?"
My uncle will be drunk and he′ll say, "Boy, they do some real great things with wood"
The letter that she wrote me said goodbye she couldn't wait and lots of luck
The bottle underneath the blanket feels just like an old friend to my touch
I know she′ll come and see me but I bet she never once looks at my legs
She'll talk about the weather and the dress she wore the July 4th Parade
Lord, I love her and I don′t believe this bottle's gonna get her off my mind
I see here in the paper where they say the war is just a waste of time
Mama bake a pie, daddy kill a chicken
Your son is comin' home, 11: 35 Wednesday night
Writer(s): Tom T. Hall Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
