Parody: Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
Don't let them gobble their food and drive in old trucks
Make 'em be chickens or pheasants or ducks
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even when they're in a flock
Turkeys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
And they'd rather give you a giblet than diamonds or gold.
Trussed up and basted and lying there wasted
For them each night begins a new day
And if you don't beat them, and nobody eats them
They'll probably just fly away
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
Don't let them gobble their food and drive in old trucks
Make 'em be chickens or pheasants or ducks
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even when they're in a flock.
A turkey loves dusty old barnyards and clear mountain mornings
Cranberry sauce, and stuffing, with plenty of gravy,
Them that don't know him won't taste him and them that do
Sometimes won't know how to chew him
He's not wrong he just tastes different and his pride won't let him
Do things to make you think he's right
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
Don't let them gobble gobble and drive in old trucks
Make 'em be chickens or pheasants or ducks
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with they're in a flock.
Don't let them gobble their food and drive in old trucks
Make 'em be chickens or pheasants or ducks
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even when they're in a flock
Turkeys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
And they'd rather give you a giblet than diamonds or gold.
Trussed up and basted and lying there wasted
For them each night begins a new day
And if you don't beat them, and nobody eats them
They'll probably just fly away
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
Don't let them gobble their food and drive in old trucks
Make 'em be chickens or pheasants or ducks
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even when they're in a flock.
A turkey loves dusty old barnyards and clear mountain mornings
Cranberry sauce, and stuffing, with plenty of gravy,
Them that don't know him won't taste him and them that do
Sometimes won't know how to chew him
He's not wrong he just tastes different and his pride won't let him
Do things to make you think he's right
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
Don't let them gobble gobble and drive in old trucks
Make 'em be chickens or pheasants or ducks
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be turkeys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with they're in a flock.
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