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Country

Toby Keith – Little Miss Tear Stain

Toby Keith performs at Shoreline Amphitheatre on September 15, 2006 in Mountain View, California.

About the Song

Toby Keith isn’t known for shying away from bravado and brash country anthems. But beneath that exterior lies a man who can tap into themes of vulnerability and regret, as evidenced in his 2013 song “Little Miss Tear Stain”.

This track, featured on the album “Drinks After Work”, takes a more introspective approach, exploring the aftermath of a failed relationship. The song opens with a mournful guitar melody, setting the stage for a bittersweet exploration of lost love.

Keith casts himself as the regretful narrator, addressing a woman he calls “Little Miss Tear Stain”. The nickname, while seemingly playful, carries a hint of endearment, suggesting a fondness that lingers despite the breakup.

The lyrics paint a picture of a strained relationship that ultimately crumbled. Lines like “You say you hate me, you don’t love me, you don’t ever wanna hear from me again” reveal the bitter words exchanged and the emotional distance that grew between them.

“Little Miss Tear Stain” is laced with a sense of longing. Keith ponders the possibility of reconciliation, singing “Could we ever get back together, or is never still a good time to call?” The question hangs heavy, hinting at a desire to rekindle the flame despite the past hurt.

However, a touch of skepticism peeks through. The line “Are you still hot, girl, as a firecracker? ‘Cause you were smokin’ when you pulled out” injects a hint of objectification, leaving the listener unsure of the sincerity of his desire to reunite.

“Little Miss Tear Stain” is a complex ballad that captures the messy emotions that follow a breakup. It’s a song of regret, laced with a glimmer of hope and a touch of unresolved feelings. While it may not be Keith’s most optimistic track, it offers a relatable glimpse into the struggle of moving on from a love that wasn’t meant to be.Toby Keith performs "Let's Get Drunk and Be Somebody"

Video 

Lyrics: Little Miss Tear Stain

You say you hate me,
You don’t love me,
You don’t ever wanna hear from me again
You’ve had time to think about it,
After all look at how long it’s beenYou have second thoughts,
I wouldn’t know it,
‘Cause I ain’t heard a word since you went away
I’m gonna find out,
Next time I see you
Think I’m gonna walk right up to you and say,Sweet little miss tear stain,
Would you entertain,
The thought of maybe having it all?
Could we ever get back together,
Or is never still a good time to call?Are you still hot, girl, as a firecracker?
‘Cause you were smokin’ when you pulled out
I know hell ain’t freezin’ over,
But it might be chillin’ out by nowSweet little miss tear stain,
Would you even entertain,
The thought of maybe having it all?
Could we ever get back together,
Or is never still a good time to call?

Yeah, could we ever get back together?
Or is never still a good time to call?

I’ll call you up baby,
Oh yeah.

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Randy Owen sometimes stopped his tour bus at truck stops to call radio DJs from pay phones. Alabama had already made him a country star. These calls were about persuading stations to help children at St. Jude. He knew what it meant to grow up with little. On his family’s sharecropper farm near Fort Payne, Alabama, he picked cotton and corn to help put food on the table. At school, other children mocked his scarred hands and the cotton dust on his clothes. Years later, after millions of record sales, Owen met St. Jude founder Danny Thomas in Atlanta. Thomas asked him to bring the country music community into the hospital’s fundraising work. When illness prevented Thomas from speaking at Nashville’s Country Radio Seminar, Owen took his place and proposed a nationwide radio effort. Winning support required persistence. He later described himself as “begging, pleading” with DJs. Some stations remained unconvinced. The first Country Cares radiothon aired on November 19, 1989: twelve hours, 45 artists and more than 800 stations. It raised approximately $1 million. By its 35th year in 2024, the initiative had brought in more than $1 billion. Owen has said helping St. Jude may be his most important work beyond being a husband and father. That enormous total began with individual requests, including calls made beside the highway between shows. Owen kept asking stations to participate. Across the country, their listeners kept answering.

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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A cot waited in a rehearsal hall at RCA Victor’s New York studio while Jimmie Rodgers made his final recordings. Between songs, he lay down to recover enough strength for another take. It was May 1933. Rodgers was 35 and had battled tuberculosis since 1924. As his health deteriorated, his earnings had dwindled. Victor was paying $250 per recorded side, and he wanted to provide for his wife, Carrie, and their daughter, Anita. The sessions started on May 17. Within days, standing to sing became impossible. He worked from an easy chair, supported by pillows that brought him close enough to the microphone, then returned to the cot. On May 24, two musicians accompanied him through three songs. After they left, Rodgers recorded one more with only his guitar: “Years Ago.” He had completed twelve songs in eight days. The following night at the Taft Hotel, severe coughing gave way to hemorrhaging in his lungs. The hotel doctor could not be located. Rodgers fell into a coma and died on May 26, roughly 36 hours after his last recording. Before music made him famous, he had worked as a railroad brakeman. A Southern Railway train carried his body home to Meridian, Mississippi, in a baggage car. According to accounts of the journey, the engineer kept sounding the whistle along the way.

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Randy Owen sometimes stopped his tour bus at truck stops to call radio DJs from pay phones. Alabama had already made him a country star. These calls were about persuading stations to help children at St. Jude. He knew what it meant to grow up with little. On his family’s sharecropper farm near Fort Payne, Alabama, he picked cotton and corn to help put food on the table. At school, other children mocked his scarred hands and the cotton dust on his clothes. Years later, after millions of record sales, Owen met St. Jude founder Danny Thomas in Atlanta. Thomas asked him to bring the country music community into the hospital’s fundraising work. When illness prevented Thomas from speaking at Nashville’s Country Radio Seminar, Owen took his place and proposed a nationwide radio effort. Winning support required persistence. He later described himself as “begging, pleading” with DJs. Some stations remained unconvinced. The first Country Cares radiothon aired on November 19, 1989: twelve hours, 45 artists and more than 800 stations. It raised approximately $1 million. By its 35th year in 2024, the initiative had brought in more than $1 billion. Owen has said helping St. Jude may be his most important work beyond being a husband and father. That enormous total began with individual requests, including calls made beside the highway between shows. Owen kept asking stations to participate. Across the country, their listeners kept answering.

Country

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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