MAMAS DON'T LET YOUR COWBOYS GROW UP TO BE SURGEONS

I went to the O.R.to have them do a procedure,
I laid on the table,they tried to gimme some gas,
But when I saw the look on the face of the surgeon,
I got up & ran I said "No thanks I think I will pass."

Instead of a gown, he wore a vest with a tin star,
On his side was a holster that he put his stethoscope in,
My concern was aroused when I looked behind his bandana,
& Saw that brown gooey liquid dribbling off of his chin.

(chorus)
Mams don't let your cowboys grow up to be surgeons,
Don't let 'em use scalpels & surgical stuff,
While chewin tabacky & snortin their snuff,
Mamas don't let your cowboys grow up to be surgeons,
Mak'em poke cows & drive pickup trucks,
They shouldn't drive Jags & Beemers & such.

He walked in the O.R his spurs was jingle & janglin,
On top of his head he wore a ten gallon hat,
His pants were all shiny from years of ridin the saddle,
While spinning his lasso he said"Now,where's my patient at."

The air had filled up with the odor of equine distinction,
His handlebar moustache barely would fit through the door,
I knew I must run,I knew my life was in danger,
When he lifted his mask & spit out his chaw on the floor.

(chorus)
Mamas don't let your cowboys grow up to be surgeons,
Don't let'em use scalpels & surgical stuff,
While chewin tabacky & snortin their snuff,
Mamas don't let you cowboys grow up to be surgeons,
Mak'em poke cows & drive pickup trucks,
They shouldn't drive Jags & Beemers & such.

DB.