About the Song

Toby Keith, a country music titan known for his unwavering patriotism and celebration of American values, takes a unique approach in “Call a Marine”. This track, featured on his 2013 album “Drinks After Work”, isn’t your typical flag-waving anthem. Instead, it offers a gritty and action-oriented perspective, highlighting the unwavering resolve of the Marines.

“Call a Marine” functions as a battle cry, a call to action when things get tough. The opening lines paint a scenario gone wrong, with a “jackass” causing trouble and the narrator feeling the need to take control. However, instead of resorting to violence themselves, they propose a more strategic solution: “Call a Marine”.

The song isn’t just about glorifying military might. The lyrics “They’re built to improvise, adapt and overcome” highlight the core training and skills that make Marines a formidable force. It’s a testament to their resourcefulness and ability to handle any situation, no matter how dire.

“Call a Marine” taps into a sense of national pride, a belief in American strength and the unwavering dedication of its Marines. Keith’s signature vocals, gruff and confident, perfectly deliver the message of empowerment and self-reliance. The song’s underlying message is clear: When faced with adversity, there’s a sense of security knowing the Marines are there, ready to “improvise, adapt and overcome” any challenge.

However, “Call a Marine” has also sparked debate. Some critics view it as an endorsement of violence, advocating for a militaristic solution to everyday problems. Others see it as a tongue-in-cheek celebration of Marine ingenuity and a humorous twist on relying on 911 for emergencies.

Regardless of interpretation, “Call a Marine” is a song that undeniably stirs emotions. It’s a testament to the unwavering spirit of the Marines and a reflection of the complex relationship between American civilians and their military. Whether you see it as a serious call to action or a lighthearted tribute, “Call a Marine” is a song that is sure to leave a lasting impression.

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Lyrics: Call a Marine

I was sittin’ in a bar, boozin’ and losin’
And some jackoff walks up cruisin’ for a bruisin’
Poppin’ off and makin’ my whole redneck red
He asked my girl if she’d like to dance
He had three buddies so I had no chance
I looked around the room for a friend and I saw Fred
A quick evaluation of the situation
And we entered into a conversation
It seemed to last the better part of the next two songs
Now I didn’t say and they didn’t ask
But Fred did two tours over in Iraq
And, son, it was over before it was even on.Call a Marine
Instead of 911
They’re built to improvise, adapt and overcome
When you’re in knee deep and you’re up shit’s creek
And you’ve tried everything
Tell you what you do
Call a Marine!Now my sister’s husband didn’t love her no more
And he runned off with a skinny little whore
And left her sittin’ around the house with a couple of kids
She just lays around in that muumuu gown
Old girl put on about 35 pounds
One day I went over to her house and I said, “Hey, sis”
If you wanna fix what troubles you
Just ease down to the VFW
And you’ll walk through the door and turns those boys’ heads
For most of those boys it’s been awhile
Just show a little leg and that Marlboro smile
And if that don’t work out for you, girl, ask for Fred.Call a Marine
Instead of 911
They’re built to improvise, adapt and overcome
If you’re in knee deep and you’re up shit’s creek
You’ve tried everything
Tell you what you do
Call a Marine!Some douche bag rises up and overthrows his government
Diplomacy ain’t workin’ and the ammos all been spent
The world is in a crisis and the media’s a curse
I’ll tell you what to do
When it goes from bad to worse

Call a Marine
Instead of 911
They’re built to improvise, adapt and overcome
When you’re in knee deep and you’re up shit’s creek
And you’ve tried everything
Tell you what you do
Call a Marine!

Tell you what to do, baby
You can call…
Call a Marine!
Yeah! Yeah!

You Missed

Toby Keith’s tour bus crossed every highway in America, but only one road brought him home. That heavily traveled rig rolled through countless Nashville nights and blazing Texas dawns. It carried him straight into Madison Square Garden, rolled right up to high-risk USO stages across Iraq and Afghanistan, and hauled his crew into pockets of the world most performers would never dream of visiting. It crossed the rugged Rockies, the mighty Mississippi, and every single state line an old road map could draw, its bright headlights slicing through four decades of classic American asphalt. Yet the highway that truly mattered was never illuminated by blinding stadium spotlights. It was that familiar, quiet stretch of Oklahoma pavement that constantly pulled his soul back home—rolling past golden wheat fields, past the weathered oil rigs where his father once put in a hard day’s labor, and past cozy small-town diners where nobody bothered him for a signature because everyone already knew his face and called him by name. Toby Keith stood like an absolute giant under the arena lights. But staring out through that windshield, somewhere in the lonely hours between city limits, he was simply a hardworking man counting down the miles until he could finally sit on his own porch, hold his family close, and enjoy a peaceful morning beneath that massive Oklahoma sky. When the final note faded into the past on February 5, 2024, that legendary bus made one final, solemn journey—hauling him straight back into the comforting embrace of the earth that raised him. Some artists spend a lifetime chasing after the blinding glare of fame. Toby Keith outran it entirely, and then he just drove on home. But there was one quiet, hidden detail about that final road home that almost every fan completely overlooked.

Behind the scenes, Patsy Cline sacrificed her own privacy, peace of mind, and financial security to break down doors in a deeply entrenched, male-dominated Nashville industry. Executives frequently tried to underpay female acts or treat them as secondary openers. Patsy refused to be pushed around, aggressively demanding fair pay scales and proper billing, which forced booking agents and record labels to treat women as major-tour headliners rather than novelty acts. Nashville in the late 1950s and early 1960s was heavily policed by conservative executives who dictated how women should dress, behave, and sound. Patsy’s refusal to act like a submissive, quiet pop-styled songstress meant she faced constant career resistance. She absorbed that professional backlash so that future artists could express raw emotion and individual identity without being blacklisted. Instead of viewing other rising women as threats in a scarce market, Patsy actively protected and mentored newcomers like Loretta Lynn. She opened her home, shared hard-earned industry survival advice, and stood up for Loretta when Nashville old-timers tried to marginalize the newcomer’s rough-hewn coal-miner background. Pushing herself back onto the road and into rigorous recording schedules long before fully healing from her 1961 car accident, she carried the physical toll of touring so she could maintain financial stability for her family and keep her market presence alive—paving a resilient path that proved female headliners could sustain long-term careers.