Sweet Mamma (Papa's Getting Mad)/ words by Fred Rose, George A. Little, and Peter L. Frost

              Lyrics:
First verse
My sweet mamma packed her grip and started away Said she was leaving town Now if I'd only thought and would have asked her to stay She might have set it down I'm feeling awfully lonesome and blue Since she went away So I sat down and wrote a little letter to her Here's what I had to say. 
Chorus
Sweet mamma papa’s getting mad I know the sweetest peaches don’t grow on trees I know the sweetest honey don’t come from bees I’m tired of listening to your corrections You better hunt yourself some good protection Sweet mamma papas done gone mad I never thought I’d ever feel this bad You flirted with the butcher and you flirted with the baker but now you’re flirting with the undertaker Sweet mamma papa’s getting madSweet mamma papa’s getting mad I know the sweetest peaches don’t grow on trees I know the sweetest honey don’t come from bees I’m tired of listening to your corrections You better hunt yourself some good protection Sweet mamma papas done gone mad I never thought I’d ever feel this bad You flirted with the butcher and you flirted with the baker but now you’re flirting with the undertaker Sweet mamma papa’s getting mad




Second verse
My sweet mamma got the letter I sent away And made a beeline home Said she was missin’ all my kissin’ both night and day Cause she was all alone, I found and framed the note I wrote to her As a souvenir Now ev’ry time that she starts getting naughty with me I whisper in her ear. 




(Chorus)