Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys

Mammas 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

Mammas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys

Cause they'll never stay home and they're always alone

Even with someone they love

A cowboy ain't easy to love and he's harder to hold

He'd rather sing you a song then give diamonds or gold

Budwiser buckles and soft faded Levi's and each night begins a new day

If you can't understand him and he don't die young he'll probably just ride away

Mammas don't let your babies...

A cowboy loves smokey ole pool rooms and clear mountain mornings

Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night

Them that don't know him won't like him

And them that do sometimes won't know how to take him

He's not wrong he's just different and his pride won't let him

Do things to make you think he's right

Mammas don't let your babies...