The bedsheets were dirty, so we just rolled on the floor.
Rested my chin on her chest and confessed Iâm afraid of the war.
She said, Baby, itâs okay if you ainât never fired your gun before,
because mamaâs gonna teach you all about the art of war.
I took off my clothes, and I blushed when she let out a laugh.
She said, âWith a body like that youâd be exempt from the government draft.
She said, Baby itâs okay if you ainât never killed another man,
because mamaâs gonna teach you and help you to understand.
When youâre out in the desert eye-to-eye with your enemy,
donât you kill him for your god or your country.
Shoot him down so you can hurry home to me,
because Mama wants to see you hang a star upon the Christmas tree.
When the warfare was over the clover she sent was still pressed
between the pages of a letter she wrote that I kept in my vest.
It said, Baby, itâs okay if you dream about me night and day.
Youâll be home in December. Just remember what your mama said.
When youâre out in the desert eye-to-eye with your enemy,
donât you kill him for your god or your country.
Shoot him down so you can hurry home to me,
because Mama wants to see you hang a star upon the Christmas...
Mama wants to kiss you underneath the Christmas mistle...
Mama wants to feel you wrap your tinsel âround her Christmas tree.