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

Ed Bruce

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars or drive them old trucks
Let'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
'Cause they 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 silver or gold
Road-Star 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

Cowboys love smoky old poolrooms 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
Sometimes won't know how to take him
He isn't wrong, he's just different, but his pride won't let him
Do things to make you think he's right

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