Perry Como – If

Introduction

“If” by Perry Como is a timeless ballad that resonates with its heartfelt lyrics and soothing melody. Released in 1951, the song showcases Perry Como’s velvety voice and impeccable phrasing, captivating listeners with its tender sentiment and romantic allure. With its evocative lyrics and gentle orchestration, “If” continues to touch the hearts of audiences, reaffirming Perry Como’s status as one of the most beloved crooners of his time. Join us as we explore the enchanting world of Perry Como’s “If.”

Did You Know?

“If” was written by Tolchard Evans and Robert Hargreaves, with lyrics by Stanley Damerell. It was first recorded by British crooner Al Bowlly in 1934 before Perry Como’s rendition popularized the song in the United States.
Perry Como’s recording of “If” reached No. 1 on the Billboard charts, solidifying his reputation as a chart-topping artist.
The song’s poignant lyrics and Como’s emotive delivery struck a chord with listeners, earning it widespread acclaim and enduring popularity.
“If” remains a staple in Perry Como’s repertoire and continues to be cherished by fans of classic vocal music for its timeless beauty and romantic charm.

Video

Lyrics: If

If they made me a king
I’d be but a slave to you
If I had everything
I’d still be a slave to you
If I ruled the night
Stars and moon so bright
Still I’d turn for light to youIf the world to me bowed
Yet, humbly I’d flee to you
If my friends were a crowd
I’d turn in my need to you
If I ruled the earth
What would life be worth
If I hadn’t the right to you

[Instrumental Interlude]

If I ruled the night
Stars and moon so bright
Still I’d turn for light to you
If the world to me bowed
Yet, humbly I’d flee to you
If my friends were a crowd
I’d turn in my need to you
If I ruled the earth
What would life be worth
If I hadn’t the right to you

WHEN A NERVOUS KID BACKSTAGE MET LORETTA LYNN, SHE PREDICTED HIS GREATNESS — AND DECADES LATER, HE BROUGHT HER OUT OF RETIREMENT TO CROWN HIM. Long before the multi-platinum albums and Stetson hats became his signature, Alan Jackson was just a wide-eyed kid running nervously through his songs backstage. That was when Loretta Lynn caught him in her crosshairs, looked right past the jitters, and delivered a stark prophecy: “You’re going to be one of the greatest singers in country music.” Years rolled on, and the prediction came true piece by piece. But in May 2017, a sudden stroke forced Loretta into quiet seclusion at her Hurricane Mills estate, canceling her tours and keeping her entirely out of the public eye for months. Then October arrived, and Alan was named to the Country Music Hall of Fame. When the time came, he made one specific request: he wanted Loretta there. Propped up by George Strait on one arm and her daughter Patsy on the other, she broke her long silence to make her very first public appearance since the stroke. Stepping up to the man she had believed in decades earlier, she placed the heavy medallion around his neck and smiled. “This is the first time I’ve been out of the house,” she told the room. “You’re the only thing that could have brought me here.” She looked right at Alan and closed it out with words that said everything: “He hasn’t let me down.”

FOUR YEARS IN THE HOLE AT THE OHIO STATE PENITENTIARY COULD BREAK MOST MEN. FOR DAVID ALLAN COE, IT WAS JUST WHERE THE SONGS STARTED. Locked away behind stone and steel from 1963 to 1967, Coe faced brutal stretches of solitary confinement. The guards could strip away his freedom and lock him in the dark with nothing, but they couldn’t police the inside of his head. While the world outside moved on, he built entire records piece by piece in the silence, letting rhythm and rhyme outrun the concrete walls. When he finally walked free, he took those cell-block creations straight to Nashville. That dark chapter birthed Penitentiary Blues, his raw debut that planted his flag in Music Row. While it didn’t turn him into an overnight superstar, it uncorked a wellspring of grit that the rest of Nashville quickly learned to tap. Other heavyweights carried his writing to iconic heights—Tanya Tucker drove “Would You Lay With Me” to No. 1, and Johnny Paycheck turned “Take This Job and Shove It” into the ultimate working-class rebellion. Meanwhile, Coe carved out his own wild, unapologetic legacy with anthems like “You Never Even Called Me by My Name” and “The Ride.” When he passed away on April 29, 2026, at the age of eighty-six, the ledger was clear: time and iron bars could take his years, but they could never touch the music he forged in the dark.

LYME DISEASE STOLE SHANIA TWAIN’S VOICE IN 2003. FIFTEEN YEARS AND TWO AWAKE OPEN-THROAT SURGERIES LATER, SHE REBUILT HER ENTIRE ARTISTRY FROM THE RUINS.Back in 2003, at the height of her superstardom during the “Up!” tour, a tick bite infected Shania Twain with Lyme disease. It started with sudden dizziness and terrifying blackouts onstage, before silently attacking the delicate nerves governing her vocal cords. Her singing voice began to fray, slip, and ultimately vanish beyond her control.For years, she faced the agonizing reality that she might never sing again. Then came 2018 and a grueling medical gamble: two open-throat surgeries performed while she was wide awake so surgeons could hear her voice in real-time, placing Gore-Tex supports beside her damaged vocal cords to act like internal braces.The operations didn’t give her old soprano back. Instead, they left her with a voice that was deeper, rougher, and entirely foreign. She had to learn how to breathe, pitch, and sing all over again from scratch. Shania didn’t return to the stage because everything had been miraculously restored—she returned because losing the voice the world remembered wasn’t enough to stop her from using the one she still had.

SHE BUILT A LEGENDARY CAREER OUT OF CALLING OUT HER HUSBAND’S SINS ON NATIONAL RADIO — THEN SPENT HER FINAL DECADES LEARNING HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM.Doolittle Lynn bought Loretta her first guitar for seventeen bucks and shoved her onto a stage she never asked for. He loaded a box of her records into the trunk of his car, dragged her across the country to hound radio DJs, and managed her early career through sheer stubborn grit. But Doolittle also brought a heavy share of pain: he drank hard, chased other women, and left scars that would have broken most marriages.All of Nashville knew the details because Loretta broadcasted every single one of them. She didn’t hide behind poetic metaphors. When he came home looking for trouble, she wrote “Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’.” When women crossed boundaries in local bars, she penned “Fist City.” She weaponized her heartbreak into gold records, standing in front of tens of thousands of fans to say the things she couldn’t get out across a quiet kitchen table, admitting it eased her just to finally let the truth fly.Through forty-eight years and six children, they held on. When Doolittle passed away at their Hurricane Mills estate on August 22, 1996, the noise finally stopped. Loretta didn’t write a single song about him for eight long years. Then, at seventy-two, the silence broke with a heartbreaking meditation on widowhood titled “Miss Being Mrs.” — proving that even after a lifetime of hard-fought battles, the only thing harder than living with him was losing him.