Strictly speaking, this one gets ahead of the news. In 1943 nobody stateside was hopping a boat to Japan and back for a weekend, but we wrote it anyway, imagining the day some hometown mother makes the trip herself, sees the peace settled with her own eyes, and comes home to report on it personally—less a piece of reporting than a piece of wishful thinking set to a beat, the same kind of hope that runs through half this album.

Mama had real counterparts that June. At Avenger Field, outside Sweetwater, Texas, Jacqueline Cochran was running the Army's flight school for women, the Women's Flying Training Detachment, which had finished moving there from Houston in May; its first class at Avenger graduated on May 28. Nancy Harkness Love's Women's Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron was already delivering new military aircraft from the factories to the bases. That August the two merged into the Women Airforce Service Pilots, the WASP. More than 25,000 women applied, 1,074 earned their wings, and 38 died in service—as civilians, without military funerals. They weren't recognized as veterans until 1977.

Mama's back from Yokohama,
Crossed the ocean, crossed the sky…
And we're standin' here to greet her
With a tear and a battle cry.

She wrote me from the airfield, said the winds were blowin' strong,
Said she'd patched her wings with canvas just to keep her flyin' long.
She said the sunrise over Asia made her think of home and pie…
And she'd bring me back a souvenir
If she didn't overshoot the sky.

[Chorus]
Mama's back from Yokohama,
With her goggles and her grin.
She's the bravest gal we ever knew,
And she's tough as a violin.
Oh, Mama, Mama, Mama—
Let the big band play her in.

She landed on a runway made of boards and borrowed rope,
Said the tower looked surprised as if they'd given up all hope.
She told me she'd been loopin' just to pass the time away…
And she'd bring me home a postcard
If she didn't loop the wrong café.

[Chorus]
Mama's back from Yokohama,
With her flight cap slightly torn.
She's the queen of every cockpit
From Manila to Melbourne.
Oh, Mama, Mama, Mama—
Let the band strike up the horn.

Now Mama ain't no angel, though she flies just like one might…
Just like one might…
Just like one might…
She'll scold you for your posture
While she's landing in the night.
She'll tell you "Eat your vegetables,"
Then dive through clouds of rain…
And she'll bring you home a lecture
On the dangers of champagne.

She's seen the rising sun at dawn…
She's raced a storm or two…
She's flown a crate with half its bolts
And still came glidin' through.
And though she's crossed the ocean wide
And braved the winds that roar…
She'll still remind us gently
To wipe our boots before the door.

[Chorus]
Mama's back from Yokohama,
With her medals in her pack.
She's the hero of the hangar
And she's finally comin' back.
Oh, Mama, Mama, Mama—
Let the whole world cheer her track…
Mama's back from Yokohama…
And she's never lookin' back.