I wanna marry Momma -- yes, my mission's mainly Oedipal
My reasons, as you'll see, are level-headed and quite sensible
From birth, dear Momma would ensure I always had enough to eat
She'd cuddle me and coo to me, caressing as I sucked her teat
When I got wet, she'd change me and rub powder on my tender buns
And kiss my upper regions while she covered up my nether ones
Throughout the years I've met a lot of virgins, vamps, and vegan girls
But Momma's been the only one-stop bathin'/dressin'/feedin' girl...
Some girls I've known are short and sweet, and some have legs from here to there
While some are very modest, others have no use for underwear

But all the girls I've known and loved are, in the end, forgettable
I wanna marry Momma -- yes, my mission's mainly Oedipal

When I was three months old, dear Momma went to work to earn a wage
And left me in the care of an au pair who seemed quite underage
My food was fairly flat, for Brenda didn't have her boobies yet
So even if I tried to suck, alas, there was no food to get
I found that when your nanny is too young to wear a Wonderbra
You find yourself reduced to store-bought baby food and formula
So once dear momma went to work, I suckled less and nibbled more
(If I can't get my liquid lunch, then what the heck's a nipple for?)
I learned a luncheon lesson: that au pairs can't be relied upon,
That for the freshest food, there was but one to set my sights upon:

The other girls serve phony food that's somewhat less than edible
I wanna marry Momma -- yes, my mission's mainly Oedipal

When I was nine, I had a friend (I thought) in darling Tiffany
One day as we held hands, I felt a strange and sudden stiffening
Still unaware, she gabbed away, adorned in pretty braids and dress
When suddenly, I lost control and (oops!), I went and made a mess
"Of course," I thought, "my darling friend will gladly clean and powder me..."
But she just stared aghast and then began to shriek and shout at me
From doodies in my di-a-pers to breastfeeding and babybibs,
No other girl cleaned up for me the way my darling Momma did
When things get hard, you'll often look around to find your friends are gone
In sticky situations, girlfriends cannot be depended on

The other girls I've known and loved have let me down in general
I wanna Marry Momma -- yes, my mission's mainly Oedipal

When I was twelve, my babysitter Cynthia was warm and sweet
But more than that, she had been blessed with really quite enormous teats
By then, of course, I knew full well my sitters weren't a source of food,
But one day, as we had a chat, she said something I misconstrued
I told the tale of Tiffany; she sympathized with that ordeal
She held me tight and promised me she'd treat me to a 'happy' meal
But as I bent to suckle, she jumped back and gave my face a slap
I felt as though I'd walked into a cunning linguist's boobie-trap!
Well, all my life, I've felt that every girl I meet's a mystery
So yes, call me a 'Momma's boy' -- all other girls are history...

ALTHOUGH TO SOME THE THOUGHT MAY SEEM HORRIFIC OR HERETICAL
I'M MARRYING MY MOMMA – I'M A MAN WHO'S MAINLY OEDIPAL!