A country lullaby

Chapter 1
Singing songs about the Southland

Chapter Description: They pick me up when I'm feelin' blue.

 Tex Jones took the stage. His music pleased, it was very popular. He had groupies that ran around wearing denim shorts that left nothing to the imagination. A little road-weary after playing 10 cities in 12 days, he was happy to finally get a promised break after this performance for a few weeks back home with his family. He missed his wife and children. Hell! He missed his dog.

The tiredness and homesickness raised a longing in his simple country boy soul. He decided to push it off with a classic that he’d rewritten with some humorous lyrics. No sense in bumming out the audience with a depressing tune, after all!

“I want to sing ya a little humorous song I wrote just the other day!” He said as the crowd happily realized that they were going to get a special song sung just for them.

He began to sing:

Now cowboys are grizzled and ride in old trucks

They’d rather punch cows than have lovers and stuff!

Mamma! Don’t let your cowboys grow down to be babies!

Don’t let ‘em shake rattles and play with toy trucks!

Make ‘em be doctors and lawyers and such.”

The crowd listened to the lyrics and let out a nervous laugh. It was a good start, Tex thought.

Let ‘em play pool in them smoky old halls

Don’t let ‘em hide diapers below overalls!

Mamma! Don’t let your cowboys grow down to be babies!

Don’t let ‘em eat pablum and drink Enfamil

Make ‘em stand up straight and not crawl on the ground.

The crowd felt the feeling behind Tex’s funny lyrics. They listened raptly, lightly swaying to the twang of the guitar as it rhythmically beat time to the song. In the audience, his groupies with their tight denim shorts and tight t-shirts tied in the front got up and swayed to and fro.

Let ‘em drink beer in a dusty old bar

Don’t let ‘em take naps with a cuddly old bear!

Mamma! Don’t let your cowboys grow down to be babies!

Don’t let ‘em wear onesies and suck on a binky

Don’t change their diapers just 'cause they're all stinky!

Tex’s groupies began to lose height and mass. Their breasts took up less of their t-shirts as they pulled up and shrank inwards. The tight jean shorts started to loosen and slip down the sides of their diminishing hips and the backs of their butts.

Tex was putting his heart into the song, something about the simple rhyming chant felt innocent and calming. He put just a touch more of his feelings into it.

Make ‘em wear big silver buckles and faded Levi's

'cause drool bibs and sunhats you just shouldn’t trust!

Mamma! Don’t let your cowboys grow down to be babies!

Bikes are for big boys and trikes are for littles

On Pampers and booties just be noncommittal!

Tex’s groupies had all become little toddlers. They danced with enthusiasm in the large holes of their crumpled jean shorts and clapped their hands with random smacking sounds oblivious to the beat or the music and just enjoying their game of “dance dance”.

Tex finished off his comical number feeling that it was time to do so. He cut his lyrics short.

Mamma! Your done let your cowboys all become babies!

They crawl on all fours and they drool into bibs

They’re all wearing their diapers and onesies again!

So, put ‘em in a crib and tuck them on in,

and then say goodnight to your new little ones,

As in the morning, you’ll feed and you’ll burp them again!

The groupies made cooing noises as they lay on their backs in the puddle of clothing that they once wore. Members of the audience picked them up and used their t-shirts as makeshift diapers. The news outlets would talk and gossip about the mysterious occurrence at the venue that Tex had played for months to come.

Tex would go on to play the song again before realizing that it was magical. He never played it after that and recordings of it didn’t cause the regression that the crowd experienced that night.

Fin