The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

Marguerita – Elvis Presley

About the Song

In the realm of music, there are songs that fade into obscurity with the passing of time, and then there are those that stand the test of time, becoming immortalized in the hearts and minds of generations. “Marguerita” by the legendary Elvis Presley falls into the latter category. Released in 1956 as part of Elvis’s self-titled debut album, this captivating ballad has transcended the boundaries of genre and era, captivating audiences worldwide with its soulful melody and heartfelt lyrics.

From the opening notes, “Marguerita” casts a spell, its gentle guitar strumming and Elvis’s tender vocals painting a picture of longing and adoration. The lyrics, penned by the renowned songwriting duo of Bernie Besman and Bill Giant, capture the essence of unrequited love, as Elvis croons of his unwavering affection for a woman named Marguerita.

“Marguerita, oh Marguerita, why do you stay so far away from me?” he laments, his voice filled with a palpable ache. The song’s progression mirrors the emotional journey of the protagonist, building in intensity as Elvis’s pleas for Marguerita’s attention grow more desperate.

Despite the unfulfilled desire that underpins the song, “Marguerita” radiates an undeniable beauty. Elvis’s vocal delivery is nothing short of mesmerizing, his voice soaring and swooping with an emotional depth that few singers could match. The melody, though simple, is incredibly evocative, perfectly complementing the song’s themes of love and longing.

The enduring appeal of “Marguerita” lies not only in its musical brilliance but also in its ability to resonate with listeners on a deeply personal level. The song’s themes of unrequited love and the yearning for connection are universal experiences that have touched countless individuals throughout history.

Elvis’s rendition of “Marguerita” stands as a testament to his artistry and the power of music to transcend time and cultural boundaries. It is a song that has touched the hearts of millions, its timeless melody and heartfelt lyrics continuing to captivate audiences worldwide. As Elvis himself sings, “Marguerita, oh Marguerita, you’re the only one for me.” And for countless listeners, “Marguerita” remains an unforgettable anthem of love and longing.

Video

Lyrics: Marguerita

Who makes my heart beat like thunder?
Who makes my temperature rise?
Who makes me tremble with wonderful rapture
With one burning glance, from her eyesMarguerita…Once I was free as a gypsy
A creature too wild to tame
Then suddenly I saw, Marguerita
And I was caught, like a moth in the flame

Marguerita…is her name

Marguerita…

Her lips have made me her prisoner
A slave to her every command
She captivates me, and intoxicates me
With one little touch of her hand

Marguerita….

Sweet…Marguerita…sweet, sweet Marguerita….

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HIS FATHER TOLD HIM TO PUT DOWN THE GUITAR. NASHVILLE FORGOT HIM. TWICE. HE CAME BACK IN A WHEELCHAIR AND STILL WOULDN’T SHUT UP. Vern Gosdin grew up hauling rocks and chopping cotton in Woodland, Alabama. His father tried music once, failed, and forbade his son from ever touching a guitar. Vern left home and never looked back — never saw his father again. He moved to California. Then Chicago. Then Nashville. Two record labels went bankrupt under him. Nobody called. Nobody came looking. So he quit, moved to Georgia, and sold glass for a living. But he kept a guitar in his truck. In the late ’70s, he crawled back to Nashville — older, broker, and angrier than every pretty boy on country radio. He didn’t sound trendy. He sounded like a man who’d been through hell and could prove it. Then he wrote “Chiseled in Stone” and beat every superstar in town for CMA Song of the Year. Tammy Wynette called him “the only singer who can hold a candle to George Jones.” In 1998, a stroke stole his voice. He kept writing from a wheelchair. 101 songs. Still fighting. They called him “The Voice.” Nashville called him too late. Does knowing how many times Vern Gosdin had to start over make “Chiseled in Stone” hit even harder now?

SHE WAS A BRIDE AT FIFTEEN, A MOTHER AT SIXTEEN, AND THE FIRST WOMAN NASHVILLE EVER HAD TO CALL “ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR” — THEN SHE NAMED HER BABY AFTER THE BEST FRIEND SHE’D JUST BURIED, AND THAT BABY SPENT A LIFETIME MAKING SURE NEITHER VOICE WAS FORGOTTEN. Loretta Lynn came out of Butcher Hollow, Kentucky, with nothing but a coal miner’s last name and a voice that could pin a grown man to his chair. Married before she could drive. Four children by twenty-two. Then she wrote songs that scared Nashville half to death — about cheating husbands, birth control pills, and women who’d had enough. Sixteen number-ones. Presidential Medal of Freedom. The whole world calling her the Coal Miner’s Daughter. In 1963, her best friend Patsy Cline died in a plane crash. The next year, Loretta gave birth to twins. She named one of them Patsy. That little girl grew up backstage, between tour buses and honky-tonks. She formed The Lynns with her twin sister Peggy. Earned CMA nominations. Then she did something quieter and heavier — she stepped behind the glass and co-produced her mother’s final albums alongside Johnny Cash’s son. Loretta died October 4, 2022. That first birthday without her, Patsy woke up reaching for a phone call that wasn’t coming — her mama singing “Happy Birthday,” the way she always had. Does knowing Loretta named her daughter after a ghost she never stopped grieving make “I Fall to Pieces” feel like it belongs to both of them now?

“YOU MAKE THE COFFEE, I’LL MAKE THE BED.” — GLEN CAMPBELL DIDN’T NEED A LOVE POEM. HE JUST NEEDED AN OKLAHOMA MORNING. In December 1971, Glen Campbell released “Oklahoma Sunday Morning.” It peaked at #15 on the country charts—not his biggest hit by a long shot. But something about this track stuck. It wasn’t about fame or tragedy; it was about coffee, making the bed, and packing a lunch. It was the kind of love that doesn’t make headlines. But the way Glen sang it, you realized he wasn’t just describing a routine. He was singing about the only place that truly felt like home. A kid from a sharecropper’s family of twelve in Delight, Arkansas—who went on to sell 45 million records—poured something deeply personal into this quiet track. Fifty years later, folks across Oklahoma still know every word. Some songs don’t need to reach #1. They just need to be true.

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SHE WAS A BRIDE AT FIFTEEN, A MOTHER AT SIXTEEN, AND THE FIRST WOMAN NASHVILLE EVER HAD TO CALL “ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR” — THEN SHE NAMED HER BABY AFTER THE BEST FRIEND SHE’D JUST BURIED, AND THAT BABY SPENT A LIFETIME MAKING SURE NEITHER VOICE WAS FORGOTTEN. Loretta Lynn came out of Butcher Hollow, Kentucky, with nothing but a coal miner’s last name and a voice that could pin a grown man to his chair. Married before she could drive. Four children by twenty-two. Then she wrote songs that scared Nashville half to death — about cheating husbands, birth control pills, and women who’d had enough. Sixteen number-ones. Presidential Medal of Freedom. The whole world calling her the Coal Miner’s Daughter. In 1963, her best friend Patsy Cline died in a plane crash. The next year, Loretta gave birth to twins. She named one of them Patsy. That little girl grew up backstage, between tour buses and honky-tonks. She formed The Lynns with her twin sister Peggy. Earned CMA nominations. Then she did something quieter and heavier — she stepped behind the glass and co-produced her mother’s final albums alongside Johnny Cash’s son. Loretta died October 4, 2022. That first birthday without her, Patsy woke up reaching for a phone call that wasn’t coming — her mama singing “Happy Birthday,” the way she always had. Does knowing Loretta named her daughter after a ghost she never stopped grieving make “I Fall to Pieces” feel like it belongs to both of them now?

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“YOU MAKE THE COFFEE, I’LL MAKE THE BED.” — GLEN CAMPBELL DIDN’T NEED A LOVE POEM. HE JUST NEEDED AN OKLAHOMA MORNING. In December 1971, Glen Campbell released “Oklahoma Sunday Morning.” It peaked at #15 on the country charts—not his biggest hit by a long shot. But something about this track stuck. It wasn’t about fame or tragedy; it was about coffee, making the bed, and packing a lunch. It was the kind of love that doesn’t make headlines. But the way Glen sang it, you realized he wasn’t just describing a routine. He was singing about the only place that truly felt like home. A kid from a sharecropper’s family of twelve in Delight, Arkansas—who went on to sell 45 million records—poured something deeply personal into this quiet track. Fifty years later, folks across Oklahoma still know every word. Some songs don’t need to reach #1. They just need to be true.