You people can talk about your cold-shell roadie mamas Mama, your chin up about your house being brown Well I got a woman way down in Mobile, Alabama She's the warmest thing in that town, doggone her skin
She ain't got no Papa Leave me alone She ain't got no big boy Please take me home
This mama just got one object in view And what she said to me, I know she's bound to say to you She'll say, "Papa if you ain't got matrimonial inclinations Then keep your hands to yourself" "Daddy, if you ain't got no bungalow-made reservations Son, don't let your hands be felt"
Well, I'm this red hot Papa you heard so much talk about But this is an asbestos woman who mortally put your fire out Papa, you ain't got no matrimonial inclinations Please keep your hands to yourself
When I first met you, I had no shoes But look at me now, I got these barefooted blues Papa, you ain't got no matrimonial intentions Keep your hands to yourself
Papa, if you ain't got matrimonial inclinations Please keep your hands to yourself Daddy, if you ain't got no bungalow-made reservations Son, don't let your hands be felt
Well I'm this red hot Papa you heard so much talk about But you're an asbestos woman who mortally put my fire out Papa, you ain't got no matrimonial intentions Oh Death, where is thy sting?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
