Bout ten years old, hide and seek,
I found me in the closet.
Ready or not, I stumbled on
And opened up that box of
Yearbooks, letters, black and whites.
A hundred maybe more.
Next thing I know my brothers and me,
Got 'em scattered on the floor.

There was one of her flippin' the bird
Sittin' on a Harley.
A few with some hairy hippie dude,
Turns out his name was Charlie.
Her hair, her clothes, her drinkin', smokin'
Had us boys confused.
I'll never forget the day us nosy kids,
Got introduced

To Mama, 'fore she was Mama
In a string bikini in Tijuana
Won't admit she
Smoked marijuana
But I saw Mama
‘Fore she was Mama

We put that box right where it was,
And never said a word.
Oh, growing up got hard
Just trying not to picture her,
In anything but aprons, dresses, minivans and church.
Oh and Daddy would've whooped our butts
For digging up that dirt

On Mama ‘fore she was mama
In a string bikini in Tijuana
She won't admit she
Smoked marijuana
But I saw Mama
‘Fore she was Mama

We laugh and hang it over her head,
Right above her halo.
Her face turns red when we bring up
That tye-dyed Winnebago.
She runs and hides and still denies
That hip high rose tattoo
She burned that box of forget-me-nots
When she found out we knew

Bout Mama, fore she was Mama
In a string bikini in Tijuana
Won't admit she
Smoked marijuana
That was Mama,
Fore she was Mama

And there's that one down
In the Bahamas
But that was Mama
Fore she was Mama