(Chorus)
Mamas, Don't let you babies grow up to be Jungle Skippers
Don't let 'em tell bad jokes and drive these old boats.
Make 'em be doctors and wear white lab coats.
Mamas, Don't let you babies grow up to be Jungle Skippers
'Cause they'll know how it feels, to do that 10th spiel,
And find out you ain't got no throat.

(Verse 1)
Skippers like hot, sweaty summers, and cold, rainy winters.
Drivin' in circles 'till they feel like they're on trip 'a million.'
The crews, they won't laugh, they won't smile -
In fact they'll just about all but ignore him.
And no women will ever be interested in him,
Except for those tour group Brazilians.

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(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 2)
We put in twelve hour days, on three hour nights.
We all get crazy and loud at two in the mornin'.
We spend all our time here, 'cause we ain't got no lives.
We'll probably be stuck here forever.
So if you don't want this to happen to your boys
Oh, mamas out there, heed my warnin!'