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Marty Robbins – ‘Don’t Worry’ (1961)

About the Song

Marty Robbins’ “Don’t Worry” (1961): A Countrypolitan Classic

Marty Robbins was a country music singer and songwriter who achieved widespread success in the 1950s and 1960s. He was known for his distinctive baritone voice and his ability to blend country, pop, and Western styles. One of his most popular songs was “Don’t Worry,” which was released in 1961.

“Don’t Worry” is a classic countrypolitan ballad. It tells the story of a man who is trying to reassure his lover that he will be okay, even though she is leaving him. The song is full of heartfelt emotion and features Robbins’s signature vocals.

The song was a major hit for Robbins, reaching number one on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart and number three on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. It has been covered by many other artists, including Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, and Willie Nelson.

“Don’t Worry” is a timeless classic that continues to be enjoyed by country music fans of all ages. It is a song about love, loss, and hope, and it is sure to touch your heart.

Here are some of the song’s key themes:

  • Love: The song is about the love between a man and a woman. The man is trying to reassure his lover that he will be okay, even though she is leaving him.
  • Loss: The song also deals with the theme of loss. The man is losing his lover, and he is feeling sad and lonely.
  • Hope: Despite the sadness of the song, there is also a message of hope. The man believes that he will eventually find love again.

The song’s lyrics are simple but effective. They tell the story of the man’s heartbreak in a way that is both relatable and moving. The song’s melody is also simple and catchy, making it easy to sing along to.

“Don’t Worry” is a classic countrypolitan ballad that is sure to touch your heart. It is a song about love, loss, and hope, and it is sure to resonate with listeners of all ages.

Video 

Lyrics: Don’t Worry 

Don’t worry ’bout me
It’s all over now
Though I may be blue
I’ll manage somehowLove can’t be explained
Can’t be controlled
One day it’s warm
Next day it’s cold

Don’t pity me
‘Cause I’m feeling blue
Don’t be ashamed
It might have been you

Oh, oh, oh, ohh, ohh, love
Kiss me one time, then go, love
I’ll understand
Don’t worry ’bout me

Sweet, sweet, sweet, love
I want you to be
As happy as I
When you love me

I’ll never forget you
Your sweet memory
It’s all over now
Don’t worry bout me

When one heart tells
One heart
One heart goodbye
One heart is free
One heart will cry

Oh, oh, oh, ohh, oh sweet
Sweet baby, sweet, baby sweet
It’s alright
Don’t worry ’bout me

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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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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.