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