Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys Songtext
von Willie Nelson
Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys Songtext
Mamas, don′t let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let ′em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They′ll never stay home and they′re always alone
Even with someone they love
Cowboys ain't easy to love and they′re harder to hold
They'd rather give you a song than diamonds or gold
Lonestar belt buckles and old faded Levis
And each night begins a new day
If you don′t understand him, and he don't die young
He′ll probably just ride away
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let ′em pick guitars or drive them old trucks
Make ′em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They′ll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love
Cowboys like smoky old pool rooms and clear mountain mornings
Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night
And them that don′t know him won't like him and them that do
Sometimes won′t know how to take him
He ain't wrong, he's just different but his pride won′t let him
Do things to make you think he′s right
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don′t let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make ′em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They′ll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don′t let ′em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don′t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.
Don't let ′em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They′ll never stay home and they′re always alone
Even with someone they love
Cowboys ain't easy to love and they′re harder to hold
They'd rather give you a song than diamonds or gold
Lonestar belt buckles and old faded Levis
And each night begins a new day
If you don′t understand him, and he don't die young
He′ll probably just ride away
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let ′em pick guitars or drive them old trucks
Make ′em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They′ll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love
Cowboys like smoky old pool rooms and clear mountain mornings
Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night
And them that don′t know him won't like him and them that do
Sometimes won′t know how to take him
He ain't wrong, he's just different but his pride won′t let him
Do things to make you think he′s right
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don′t let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make ′em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They′ll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don′t let ′em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas, don′t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.
Writer(s): Patsy Bruce, Ed Bruce Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com