I remember Christmas morning

Back in 1954

When we moved up to Mount Savage

As if it mattered anymore

Mama always said

How the air can clear her head



We were colder and much higher

Than we ever were before

I recall her tailored jersey

And the flowers that she wore

Years ago I tried to tell her

What was in my heart

But she was part of the city



She took a little with sugar

She took the money from my old man

She took a little with sugar

She took the money from my old man



All the years that she was with us

You could count them on one hand

I was taken with her showboat style

But too young to understand

She was all alone

Ahead of her time

She was first generation



[Chorus, and variations of it, to fade]