He commutes to L.A., but he's got a house in the Valley
But the bills are piling up and the pop scene just ain't on the rally
And he says, honey,
I'm a serious composer, schooled in voice and composition
But with the crime and the smog these
Days, this ain't no place for children
Lord, it sounds so easy, this shouldn't take long
Be back in the money in no time at all
He's gone country, look at them boots
He's gone country, back to his roots
He's gone country, a new kind of suit
He's gone country, here he comes
He's gone country
Everybody's gone country
Yeah, we've gone county
The whole worild's gone country
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys.
Don't let 'em pick guitars or drive them old trucks.
Let 'em be doctors and lawyers and such.
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys.
'Cos they'll never stay home and they're always alone.
Even with someone they love.