The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

Money Honey – Elvis Presley

Introduction

Elvis Presley, the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll, left an indelible mark on the world of music, and one of his iconic tracks, “Money Honey,” remains a timeless classic. This article delves into the history and significance of Elvis Presley’s “Money Honey” while also exploring interesting facts about the artist himself.

 

Did You Know?

Elvis Presley’s “Money Honey” was not only a musical sensation but also a pioneering force in the evolution of rock ‘n’ roll. Here are some fascinating tidbits about the song and the legendary artist:

  1. A Chart-Topping Hit: “Money Honey” was released in 1956 as a part of Elvis Presley’s debut album, which included some of his earliest and most influential works. The song quickly climbed the charts, establishing Elvis as a breakout star in the music industry.
  2. An Elvis Original: While “Money Honey” might sound like a song that has been around forever, it was actually penned by Jesse Stone, who tailored it to suit Elvis’s unique style. Elvis’s electrifying performance of the song made it his own.
  3. Rock ‘n’ Roll Revolution: Elvis Presley’s rendition of “Money Honey” marked a defining moment in the history of rock ‘n’ roll. His dynamic stage presence and vibrant delivery set the stage for the genre’s widespread popularity, making him an icon of the rock movement.
  4. Unforgettable Live Performances: Elvis’s live performances of “Money Honey” were legendary. His gyrating hips, charismatic stage presence, and raw talent captivated audiences around the world, cementing his status as a cultural phenomenon.
  5. Impact on Future Generations: Elvis Presley’s influence on modern music is immeasurable. “Money Honey” played a pivotal role in shaping the trajectory of rock ‘n’ roll and inspiring countless artists who followed in his footsteps.

Video

Lyrics: Money Honey  

You know, the landlord rang my front door bell.
I let it ring for a long, long spell.
I went to the window,
I peeped through the blind,
And asked him to tell me what’s on his mind.
He said,

Money, honey.
Money, honey.
Money, honey, if you want to get along with me.

Well, I screamed and I hollered,
I was so hard-pressed.
I called the woman that I loved the best.
I finally got my baby about half past three,
She said I’d like to know what you want with me.
I said,

Money, honey.
Money, honey.
Money, honey,
If you want to get along with me.

Well, I said tell me baby, what’s wrong with you?
From this day on our romance is through
I said, tell me baby, face to face
How could another man take my place?
She said,

Money, honey.
Money, honey.
Money, honey,
If you want to get a long with me.

Well, I’ve learned my lesson and now I know
The sun may shine and the winds may blow.
The women may come and the women may go,
But before I say I love you so,
I want

Money, honey.
Money, honey.
Money, honey,
If you want to get along with me.

Related Post

What if the true miracle of Elvis Presley was never his dazzling face, his electric swagger, or the crown that history pressed upon his head? What if his greatest gift was something entirely unseen, living solely in the sound of his breath against a microphone? He possessed a voice of astonishing alchemy—capable of whipping an arena into a frenzy of wild, delirious joy one moment, only to strip a room down to absolute, breathless silence with a single, heartbreaking note. It was an instrument that carried the full spectrum of human endurance: the raw ache of loneliness, the quiet devotion of faith, the fever of first love, and the heavy sorrow of a broken heart, all articulated in ways mere language could never touch. Nearly half a century after his voice fell silent, millions still turn to his records and feel a strange, profound stirring they can’t quite name. Because when Elvis sang, he wasn’t just entertaining a crowd. He possessed the rare, uncanny magic of a soul looking straight into yours—making you feel, with every syllable, that he understood the deepest, quietest corners of your heart.

What cosmic alchemy creates a face so striking that, nearly half a century after he drew his last breath, strangers can still look at an old portrait and feel their hearts instantly surrender? Elvis Presley possessed a rare, breathtaking symmetry that defied mere description—anchored by those unforgettable blue eyes, faultless bone structure, and a smile that could disarm a room in a heartbeat. He held a paradoxical grace, effortlessly projecting both commanding power and profound vulnerability all at once. Yet his true magnetism lay far beyond the physical. Beneath the legendary looks lived an aching, radiant warmth—a quiet tenderness shadowing his confidence, and a subtle, lingering melancholy that often lingered in his eyes even when his lips were smiling. He looked like a dream the world had conjured, yet his deep, unmistakably human fragility made you feel as though he wasn’t just an icon to be admired from afar, but someone your soul already knew and deeply loved.

How does a man who laid down his microphone nearly half a century ago continue to claim the hearts of generations born decades after his final curtain? Elvis Presley drew his last breath on August 16, 1977, at only forty-two, yet his story refused to end with a gravestone in the Meditation Garden. Instead, something miraculous happened in his absence: the myth deepened, the music found new sanctuaries, and millions of souls who never lived a single day under his living sun learned to love him with a fierce, personal devotion. Every year, modern pilgrims still trace their way to the gates of Graceland, leaving flowers, letters, and tears on stone, while his voice continues to drift from bedroom turntables and digital screens into the ears of youth who weren’t even glimmers in their parents’ eyes when he passed. Yet perhaps the most poignant, quiet tragedy of all is that Elvis never knew. In his loneliest hours, wrestling with the crushing weight of fame and a life slipping through his fingers, he could never have imagined that long after he was gone, unborn generations would still be whispering his name, aching for a man they never touched, and keeping his brilliant, immortal spirit alive.

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Lorrie Morgan saved the card Keith Whitley gave her at the Nashville airport for her flight home. When she finally opened it, her husband was dead. It was early May 1989. Lorrie was heading to Alaska to promote her first RCA album, while Keith was enjoying the strongest run of his career. Just weeks earlier, “I’m No Stranger to the Rain” had become his third consecutive No. 1. At home, success had brought little reassurance. Keith had struggled with alcohol for years. A period of sobriety beginning in 1987 lasted about six months. Lorrie later described the fear surrounding his drinking as living with a ticking time bomb. In her 1997 memoir, she recalled tying her leg to his while they slept so she would know if he got up to drink. During her trip, he began drinking again that weekend. On Tuesday morning, May 9, his brother-in-law, Lane Palmer, visited the house in Goodlettsville. They drank coffee and discussed golf and lunch. Palmer left around 8:30 a.m. When he returned roughly an hour later, Keith was lying on the bed, fully dressed and unconscious. The medical examiner determined that he died from acute alcohol poisoning. Traveling back to Nashville, Lorrie read the card she had set aside. She later said its words left her feeling that Keith had been trying to tell her something—a feeling she was left to carry without the chance to ask him.

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