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Ray Peterson – Tell Laura I Love Her

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About the Song

Released in 1960, “Tell Laura I Love Her” by Ray Peterson isn’t your typical love song. It’s a dramatic ballad tinged with tragedy, a story of desperate love and a sacrifice made in its pursuit. The song quickly climbed the charts, becoming a Top 10 hit and solidifying Peterson’s place in rock and roll history.

The narrative unfolds through Peterson’s powerful vocals, rich with emotion. The lyrics paint a picture of a young man, presumably named Tommy, deeply in love with Laura. He desires to shower her with affection, symbolized by flowers, presents, and ultimately, a wedding ring. However, fate intervenes. Spotting a sign for a stock car race with a tempting prize money, Tommy sees a chance to potentially give Laura the life he dreams for.

Tragedy strikes as the song takes a dark turn. News arrives that Tommy has been involved in a fiery crash. With his last breath, he utters a final plea: “Tell Laura I love her.” This heart-wrenching line resonates throughout the song, a testament to the enduring power of love even in the face of death.

“Tell Laura I Love Her” belongs to a subgenre known as the “teenage tragedy song,” popular in the late 1950s and early 1960s. These songs often explored themes of young love, rebellion, and sudden loss. While some critics dismissed them as melodramatic, “Tell Laura I Love Her” stood out with its powerful vocals, dramatic arrangement, and its ability to evoke genuine emotion.

Beyond its historical significance, the song continues to resonate with listeners today. The universal themes of love, loss, and sacrifice remain timeless. It’s a reminder that life can be fleeting, and the importance of expressing our love to those who matter most.

Ray Peterson | Russ & Gary's "The Best Years of Music"

Video

Lyrics: Tell Laura I Love Her

Laura and Tommy were loversHe wanted to give her everythingFlowers, presents and most of all, a wedding ringHe saw a sign for a stock car raceA thousand dollar prize it readHe couldn’t get Laura on the phoneSo to her mother, Tommy said
Tell Laura I love her, tell Laura I need herTell Laura I may be lateI’ve something to do, that cannot wait
He drove his car to the racing groundsHe was the youngest driver thereAnd the crowed roared as they started the race‘Round the track they drove at a deadly paceNo one knows what happened that dayHow his car overturned in flamesBut as they pulled him from the twisted wreckWith his dying breath, they heard him say
Tell Laura I love her, tell Laura I need herTell Laura not to cryMy love for her will never die
And in the chapel where Laura praysFor Tommy who passed awayIt was just for Laura he lived and diedAlone in the chapel she can hear him cry
Tell Laura I love her, tell Laura I need herTell Laura not to cryMy love for her will never dieTell Laura I love herTell Laura I love herTell Laura I love her

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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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