First thing I remember knowing, was the lonesome whistle blowing, and the youngest scream of growing up to rise. In spite of all my Sunday learning, hurts so bad I kept on turning, no one could steer me right, but Mama tried. And I turned twenty-one in prison, doing life without parole, no one could steer me right, but Mama tried. Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleas I denied, and leaves only me to blame, cause Mama tried. � Dear old Daddy, rest your soul, left my Mama heavy load, she tried so very hard to fill his shoes. Working hours without rest, wanted me to have the best, she tried to raise me right, but I refused. And I turned twenty-one in prison, doing life without parole, no one could steer me right, but Mama tried. Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleas I denied, and leaves only me to blame, cause Mama tried. �