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About the Song

“Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress” is a song by the English rock band The Hollies, released in 1972 as the lead single from their album Distant Light. It is a mid-tempo ballad with a catchy melody and a romantic theme. The song was a commercial success, reaching number 2 on the UK Singles Chart and number 8 on the US Billboard Hot 100.

The song is about a man who is captivated by a beautiful woman he sees in a black dress. He is immediately drawn to her and is unable to take his eyes off of her. The song is full of imagery and emotion, and it captures the feeling of being infatuated with someone.

The song was written by Tony Hicks and Bernie Calvert, and it was produced by Mick Mickwood. The Hollies recorded the song at Abbey Road Studios in London. The song features Allan Clarke on lead vocals, Eric Haydock and Graham Nash on backing vocals, Tony Hicks on lead guitar, Bernie Calvert on bass guitar, and Bobby Elliott on drums.

“Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress” is one of the most popular songs by The Hollies, and it is still played on radio stations today. It is a classic rock song that has been covered by many other artists, including Cher, Rod Stewart, and Elvis Presley.

BBC Radio 2 - Sounds of the 60s with Tony Blackburn - The Hollies And Their Hit Songwriters

Now, let’s take a journey back in time and explore the song itself. You can watch the official video on YouTube and enjoy the lyrics below.

Video 

Lyrics: Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress

Saturday night I was downtown
Working for the FBI
Sittin’ in a nest of bad men
Whiskey bottles piling highBootlegging boozer on the west side
Full of people who are doing wrong
Just about to call up the DA man
When I heard this woman sing a songA pair of 45’s made me open my eyes
My temperature started to rise
She was a long cool woman in a black dress
Just-a 5’9, beautiful, tall
With just one look I was a bad mess
‘Cause that long cool woman had it all[Instrumental Interlude]I saw her heading to the table
Like a tall walking big black cat
When Charlie said I hope that you’re able boy
‘Cause I’m telling you she knows where it’s at
Then suddenly we heard the sirens
And everybody started to run
A-jumping out of doors and tables
When I heard somebody shootin’ a gun
Well the DA was pumping my left handAnd a-she was a-holding my right
Well I told her don’t get scared
‘Cause you’re gonna be spared
I’ve gotta be forgivin’ if I wanna spend my living
With a long cool woman in a black dress
Just a 5’9 beautiful tall
Yeah, with just one look I was a bad mess
‘Cause that long cool woman had it all
Had it all
Had it all

You Missed

CONWAY TWITTY SANG ABOUT THE SACRED BEAUTY OF SECOND CHANCES WHILE HE WAS LIVING THE SLOW COLLAPSE OF HIS OWN MARRIAGE. Harold Jenkins was a man who understood the mechanics of a hit record better than almost anyone in Nashville. He could pinpoint the precise cadence of a chorus that would make millions feel the sting of regret or the warmth of a comeback. Yet, the same artistry that fueled his rise often left his home life in the shadow of a neon stage light. Mickey Medley met Harold before the world knew the name Conway Twitty, and for years, they navigated the strange friction of being married to a man whose job required him to be the public face of longing while he was struggling to be present in his own living room. In 1970, the pressure finally forced a break, and the pair went their separate ways. But the pull of their shared history proved stronger than the wreckage of the road. They remarried that same year, attempting a reset away from the relentless churn of touring and business demands. For a fleeting window, they glimpsed a quieter version of the life they once shared. It was a brief, authentic effort to find ground beneath the spectacle. But the industry is a demanding creditor, and the machine of fame rarely accepts a part-time participant. Despite their attempts at reconciliation, the rhythm of his career eventually eroded the foundations they tried so hard to rebuild. He remained a master of the romantic ballad, while the woman who knew him simply as Harold learned that even the most perfect lyrics cannot rewrite the ending of a long, tired road.

ALAN JACKSON WROTE HIS MOST HAUNTING SONG FOR A WIFE WHO WAS STILL ALIVE AND SITTING JUST A FEW ROOMS AWAY. In late 2010, the weight of a cancer diagnosis fell upon the Jackson household, landing with the kind of sudden, crushing finality that money and fame cannot deflect. For weeks, Alan carried a melody in his head, a quiet, mournful composition that he kept shielded from Denise. He was not writing a medical report; he was trying to articulate the absolute terror of a future where his lifelong partner might simply vanish. He kept the lyrics ambiguous, stripping away the clinical reality of chemo and hospital rooms to focus instead on the primal, universal dread of losing the person who defined his entire world. When he finally brought the song into the studio, the atmosphere changed instantly. He had to explain the inspiration to his band and engineers before the red light went on. The professional distance required to record a track evaporated, replaced by a thick, heavy silence. Musicians who had played with him for decades struggled to find their footing as the song’s truth settled over the console. Jackson’s own task was not to perform, but to maintain just enough composure to reach the final chord. Denise eventually recovered, and the song became a closing track on a record about aging and change. Years later, those lyrics now exist in a different context—a living artifact of a crisis that the couple ultimately survived. They walk through a life as grandparents now, bound by more time together than he ever dared to imagine when he first sat down at his guitar in that moment of absolute, blinding uncertainty.