Mom was cooking bread She wore a dirty raggety scarf around her head Always had her stockings low Rolled to her feet, she just didn't know She wore a sloppy dress No matter how she tried, she always looked a mess Out of the pot she ate, never used a fork or a dinner plate I was always so ashamed for my uptown friends to see her Afraid one day when I was grown that I would be her In a college town, away from home, a new identity I found Said I was born elite, with maids and servants at my feet I must have been insane I lied and said my mom died on a weekend trip to spain She never got out of the house, never even boarded a train I married a guy, was livin' high I didn't want him to know her She had a grandson, two years old I never even showed her I'm livin' in shame, momma, I miss you I'm livin' in shame, momma, I miss you Came the telegram Mom passed away while making homemade jam Before she died, she cried to see me by her side She always did her best, ah! Cookin', cleanin' Always in the same old dress Workin' hard down on her knees Always try'n to please Momma! Momma! Do you hear me, momma! Momma! Momma! Do you hear me, momma!