| No more Mama
|
| No more Mama
|
| I can’t sleep, leap out of bed
|
| Creep down the hall, sneak down the steps
|
| Into the creepy, creaky basement and discreetly peek at my gifts
|
| Open up, what could it be?
|
| That motor-mouth, those rosy cheeks!
|
| A baby talking Tattletail, who babbles without fail
|
| Don’t tattle on me, don’t tattle on me
|
| 'Cause Mama’s sleeping and Mama’s scary
|
| No, don’t you speak, or I might scream
|
| 'Cause if she finds you, who knows what she’ll do
|
| Hide and seek under the tree
|
| Red glowing eyes are all I see
|
| Maternal stalker by the stockings
|
| Matricidal children plotting
|
| Charge you, brush you, feed you treats
|
| Hey, who’s the toy here, you or me?
|
| Infernal presence in the presents
|
| Unsettled machine
|
| Don’t tattle on me, don’t tattle on me
|
| 'Cause Mama’s listening and Mama’s scary
|
| No, don’t you speak or I might scream
|
| 'Cause if she finds you, who knows what she’ll do
|
| Wound up like a VHS
|
| Shook up and I’m in distress
|
| Locked up in a cardboard box
|
| Broke up like a shattered pot
|
| Wake up from a bad, bad dream
|
| Strung up like a Christmas tree
|
| Messed up, so she got recalled
|
| Shut up
|
| And don’t tattle on me, don’t tattle on me
|
| 'Cause Mama’s watching and Mama’s scary
|
| Don’t make a peep or I might scream
|
| 'Cause if she finds you, you know what she’ll do
|
| So, don’t tattle on me!
|
| Ha-ha |