May Songwriting Challenge- Day 8; Momma Don’t Know

A few years ago, Aaron and I were co-writing and one of us came up with the idea of a song called “Momma Don’t Know”. We have great writing chemistry so usually we hop on the same train and start chugging away. However, this idea was different. We sat in that writing session for a few hours and finally gave up because we each had our own ideas for the song and couldn’t find any compromise. Well…today we compromised. I told him I’d list him as a co-writer and write it and he could deal with it because I am woman, hear me roar.

Alright, so he gave me his blessing and told me that he’d “fix it” to his liking after this challenge is over.  This will be tweaked several times over the next few months, but for the sake of this challenge, I give you “Momma Don’t Know”

Momma Don’t Know

© Layton/Sears 2018

V1:

Momma don’t know she likes to rev her engine

Lay a little rubber on a dead-end street

A windows down, radio blaring

“better hold on tight” kind of crazy

Momma don’t know it ain’t all pearls and lace

She’d rather wear jeans and an old ballcap

Jumping up and down, cheering at the game

“That ref must be blind, who makes a call like that?”

CH:

My momma thinks my baby is some kind of saint

Yeah that’s true but there’s a side of that woman, wild as a hurricane

She’s a pistol on Saturday night, Sunday she wears a gold halo

Whoa-whoa

V2:

Momma don’t know she kicks like buckshot

She’s got her daddy’s temper and her mother’s sass

Take any cross cold remark

Spin it ‘round and fling it on back

Momma don’t know after a long hard wing

Only double single barrel on the rocks will do

One leads to another and suddenly

She’s dancing on the bar in her cowboy boots

Ch:

My momma thinks my baby is some kind of saint

Yeah that’s true but there’s a side of that woman, wild as a hurricane

She’s a pistol on Saturday night, Sunday she wears a gold halo

Whoa-whoa

BR:

There’s a long, long list of “momma don’t know”s for sure

Oh but what momma don’t know can’t hurt

CH:

My momma thinks my baby is some kind of saint

Yeah that’s true but there’s a side of that woman, wild as a hurricane

She’s a pistol on Saturday night, Sunday she wears a gold halo

Whoa-whoa, Momma don’t’ know

Momma don’t know