written by Michael Nesmith
Truckin' through the traffic in a two-tone van,
At the door, after four came a lazy lady's hand,
Tell by the sound that she was wearing kid gloves
And I could feel by the rhythm that she'd come to make love,
Whoa, Mama Rocker you're a good man's savior,
Picking up the music and passing out the favor
She was two inches shorter than me without my boots
Got my attention but she never made a move
She came and she went, she let me down slow
And I wanted to go with her but something told me, "No!",
Hey-hey-hey, Mama Rocker you're a good man's savior,
Picking up the music and passing out the favor
Truckin' through the traffic in a two-tone van,
At the door, after four came a lazy lady's hand,
Tell by the sound that she was wearing kid gloves
And I could feel by the rhythm that she'd want to make love,
Whoa, Mama Rocker, you're a good man's savior,
Picking up the music and passing out the favors down, way down low
