On sunday after church thereand'd always be a picnic
thereand'd be kinfolks callinand' until dawn
me iand'd play the guitar and my uncle merle would sing
and grandpa heand'd play that fiddle all night long
now the women folk they would work out in the kitchen
you could smell that food for miles and miles around
paw he was prayinand' my brother jack would bring him down some moonshine
just soand's that he could warsh those viddle down
as soon as all the kids got tired of playinand' horseshoes
mama sheand'd call me over to her side
you know sheand'd say iand'd like to take some pictures
you could see her face light up with pride
and then sheand'd bring out that worn out family album
its faded pictures some with corners torn
sheand'd laugh and poin and tell me funny stories
and look sheand'd say why thatand's the day that you were born
and iand'd sit and reminisce each picture with her
and iand'd listen to her laughter and her sighs
but underneath i knew how much iand'd hurt her
for iand'd put teardrops in my mamaand's eyes
In my mamaand's eyes iand've never done a wrong thing
i was still a baby in my mamaand's eyes
that old family album sheand'll keep on her night stand
right next to the bible until the day she dies
Through all those years in prison she stuck by me
and she came to visit anytime she could
well i remember at my trial when she testified she loved me
and she told the judge iand'd always been so good
then later through the fame she watched me blossom
from just a local country singer to a great big star
she listened to all my records for the hidden meanings
and she came to hear me sing in all those dim lit bars
and she read all the things they wrote about me
but she knew deep in her heart that it was lies
no she donand't hide her head in shame when someone says my name
youand'll find no teardrops in my mamaand's eyes
in my mamaand's eyes...
right next to the bible until the day she dies
