Mom told me,
“Sleep in your pajamas, John
Never in bare skin
Your conscience may give a fight
But your passions will win
And the oldest form of trouble
Is the warmth from carnal sin.”

I told her
I don’t mind, I don’t mind
If that’s trouble
You can count me in

Man told me
His wife, now she’s a good one
Why she’s worth her weight in gold
But sometimes she forgets her place
And the little woman speaks a bit too bold
We’ll have all kinds of trouble
If women have an equal hold

I told him,
I don’t mind, I don’t mind
If that’s trouble
You can count me in

‘Cause some things I learned were evil
Dirty, bad or wrong
Same things now that keep me clean
Keep me feeling strong
And the same things that some folks say
Are going to bring you to an end
May be the very same things
That will keep you going, friend

You take six kids on a dirt pile
You take rainy summer skies
You mix the fwo together
And you end up with mudpies
The harder that you pack them
The further that they fly

I don’t mind, I don’t mind
If that’s trouble
You can count me