A Song for Barbara
(With Apologies to Willie Nelson and Real Cowboys)
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick mean fights and strive for ill-gotten bucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They're always at the ranch and they're always alone
Even with the kings they love
Cowboys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
And they'd rather give you a song and dance than the truth
Washington belt buckles and old jaded men pick a new fight every new day
And if you don't understand him and the gibberish he’s sprung
He'll probably just ride away
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick mean fights and strive for ill-gotten bucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They're always at the ranch and they're always alone
Even with the kings they love
Cowboys like oil in deserts like Iraq and what Alaskan mountains promise
Little warm soldiers and children and girls dying in the night
And them that do know him won't like him
And them that don’t sometimes won't know how to take him
He ain't different he's just wrong but his pride won't let him do things to make his wrongs right
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick mean fights and strive for ill-gotten bucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They’re always on the ranch and they're always alone
Even with the kings they love
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick mean fights and strive for ill-gotten bucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such

No mention of engineers in there