Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Shaman

To the tune of Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys by Ed Bruce

Shaman ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
They prefer fetching of soul parts to silver or gold
An altar cloth stage reveals cedar and sage, and a crystal or two when unfurled
You can not bind them, for try as you might, they're already between the worlds


Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be shaman
Don't let 'em shake rattles or beat them old drums
Let them be doctors or crunchers of sums
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be shaman
You can't get them alone, they're never on their own, surrounded by their spirit chums


Shaman like fires and feathers and stones and ancestors
Ecstatically dancing their spirit guides into the night
Journeys to exotic realms where the spirits and dieties like to vacation
They are stranger than most, though they're not ones to boast, they're happy to just spread the light


Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be shaman
Don't let 'em shake rattles or beat them old drums
Let them be doctors and crunchers of sums
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be shaman
You can't get them alone, they're never on their own, surrounded by their spirit chums