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Lyrics | Artists: E | ESTHER BIGEOU lyrics | Beale Street Mama lyrics

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<pre><font size='+2'>BEALE STREET MAMA lyrics ESTHER BIGEOU</font><br>Mamie Neale, down in Beale, <br />
Gave her papa the air, <br />
Left him cold, got him told, <br />
Like she didn`t care; <br />
Poor Joe, her beau, <br />
Looked just like he would die; <br />
If you would see her, you would hear her, sob this mournful cry: <br />
<br />
Beale Street Papa, why don`t you come back home? <br />
It isn`t proper to leave your mama all alone. <br />
Sometimes I was cruel, that`s true, <br />
But your sweet mama never did two-time you; <br />
Ah, ooh, I`m blue! <br />
So how come you do me like you do? <br />
I`m cryin`! <br />
<br />
Beale Street Papa, I mean, don`t you mess around with me; <br />
There`s plenty petting I can get in Tennessee, <br />
I get my lovin` constantly, but not the kind you served to me, <br />
So please, sweet papa, come back home! <br />
<br />
Beale Street Papa, I mean, don`t you mess around with me; <br />
There`s plenty petting I can get in Tennessee, <br />
I bought a razor, rifle, rope and knife, <br />
But if the police comes for you, baby, gonna save my life, <br />
So Beale Street Papa, come back home!<br><br><a href='http://www.lyricsbay.com' target='_blank'>LyricsBay</a> | <a href="http://www.lyricsbay.com/beale_street_mama_lyrics-esther_bigeou.html" target='_blank'>BEALE STREET MAMA lyrics ESTHER BIGEOU</a></pre>

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ESTHER BIGEOU Beale Street Mama song texte and letras
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Beale Street Mama lyrics

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Mamie Neale, down in Beale,
Gave her papa the air,
Left him cold, got him told,
Like she didn`t care;
Poor Joe, her beau,
Looked just like he would die;
If you would see her, you would hear her, sob this mournful cry:

Beale Street Papa, why don`t you come back home?
It isn`t proper to leave your mama all alone.
Sometimes I was cruel, that`s true,
But your sweet mama never did two-time you;
Ah, ooh, I`m blue!
So how come you do me like you do?
I`m cryin`!

Beale Street Papa, I mean, don`t you mess around with me;
There`s plenty petting I can get in Tennessee,
I get my lovin` constantly, but not the kind you served to me,
So please, sweet papa, come back home!

Beale Street Papa, I mean, don`t you mess around with me;
There`s plenty petting I can get in Tennessee,
I bought a razor, rifle, rope and knife,
But if the police comes for you, baby, gonna save my life,
So Beale Street Papa, come back home!

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