Down in the swamps of Southern Alabama 

where Cypress roots hold firm, lived Mama Mosquito and her kin.  

Mama Mosquito worked real hard, 

feasting on sweet blood from within.

Mama could hear Papa Mosquito hollerin’ from a mile away

askin’ for some blood from where he lay.

Mama said “PAPA! Don’t you whine! I got yo fine red wine”.

And Mama said “BABY! Come right here. I gotchyo food, so don’t you shed a tear.”

Baby fell right asleep, lying on his rear.

Mama flew outside and swayed in the breeze.

She got a chill in her wings and felt the cold in the trees.

Mama buzzed on inside and yelled “PAPA! We got to leave.”

She started packin’ all her things, including the weave.

Grabbin’ Baby on the way out, 

Mama and Papa buzzed away from falling cypress tree leaves.

Headed further south, the Mosquito family

encountered big, mean creatures who made them feel clammy.

They wandered round and round until a slap came down and hit 'um. What a calamity!

The day came where they muttered their final plea. 

Mama, Papa, and Baby Mosquito buzzed to the sky

To their new cypress tree.