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Honeycomb – Jimmie Rodgers

Jimmie Rodgers, 'Kisses Sweeter Than Wine' Singer, Dead of Kidney Disease at 87

About the Song

Jimmie Rodgers’ “Honeycomb” is a quintessential rock and roll classic that defined the sound of the 1950s. Released in 1957, it became a number-one hit, catapulting Rodgers to stardom.  

The song’s infectious rhythm and catchy melody are instantly recognizable. Rodgers’ charismatic vocal delivery, filled with youthful energy and raw emotion, perfectly complements the upbeat tempo. The lyrics, while simple, convey a sense of longing and desire that resonates with listeners of all ages.

“Honeycomb” was a groundbreaking record that helped shape the sound of early rock and roll. Its influence can be heard in countless songs that followed, making it a cornerstone of popular music history.Jimmie Rodgers | Spotify

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Lyrics: Honeycomb

(Honeycomb)
(Honeycomb)Well, it’s a darn good life
And it’s kinda funny
How the Lord made the bee
And the bee made the honey
And the honeybee lookin’ for a home
And they called it honeycombAnd they roamed the world and they gathered all
Of the honeycomb into one sweet ball
And the honeycomb from a million trips
Made my baby’s lipsOh, Honeycomb, won’t you be my baby
Well, Honeycomb, be my own
Got a hank o’ hair and a piece o’ bone
And made a walkin’ talkin’ Honeycomb

Well, Honeycomb, won’t you be my baby
Well, Honeycomb, be my own
What a darn good life
When you got a wife like Honeycomb

(Honeycomb)

And the Lord said now that I made a bee
I’m gonna look all around for a green, green tree
And He made a little tree and I guess you heard
Oh, then well he made a little bird

And they waited all around till the end of Spring
Gettin’ every note that the birdie’d sing
And they put ’em all into one sweet song
For my Honeycomb

Oh, Honeycomb, won’t you be my baby
Well, Honeycomb, be my own
Got a hank o’ hair and a piece o’ bone
And made a walkin’ talkin’ Honeycomb

Well, Honeycomb, won’t you be my baby
Well, Honeycomb, be my own
What a darn good life
When you got a wife like Honeycomb

(Honeycomb)

And the Lord says now that I made a bird
I’m gonna look all round for a little ol’ word
That sounds about sweet like “turtledove”
And I guess I’m gonna call it “love”

And He roamed the world lookin’ everywhere
Gettin’ love from here, love from there
And He put it all in a little ol’ part
Of my baby’s heart

Oh, Honeycomb, won’t you be my baby
Well, Honeycomb, be my own
Got a hank o’ hair and a piece o’ bone
And made a walkin’ talkin’ Honeycomb

Well, Honeycomb, won’t you be my baby
Well, Honeycomb, be my own
What a darn good life
When you got a wife like Honeycomb
What a darn good life
When you got a wife like Honeycomb

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SHE COULDN’T WALK OUT LIKE BEFORE. BUT WHEN HER SISTER STARTED THE SONG, LORETTA LYNN REACHED FOR THE MIC LIKE THE GIRL FROM BUTCHER HOLLOW WAS STILL INSIDE HER. By April 2019, Loretta Lynn had already survived the stroke that ended her full touring life. She was 87, sitting at Nashville’s Bridgestone Arena while more than 30 stars gathered to honor her — Garth Brooks, George Strait, Miranda Lambert, Keith Urban, and a room full of people who knew country music would not sound the same without her. For most of the night, Loretta watched. Then came “Coal Miner’s Daughter.” Her sister Crystal Gayle began the song, gently trying to bring Loretta in. At first, Loretta seemed to resist. Then something in her changed. She leaned forward and said, “Let me have that damn mic.” The arena came apart. For a few lines, the stroke, the years, and the frailty did not get the final word. The daughter of a Kentucky coal miner was back inside the song that built her. Loretta Lynn did not need a full concert to say goodbye. She only needed the microphone one more time.

THE DOCTORS GAVE VERN GOSDIN MORE TIME. HE USED IT TO SING LIKE EVERY WORD MIGHT BE HIS LAST. In 1998, Vern Gosdin suffered a stroke. For any man, that would have been frightening. For Vern, it cut closer to the soul. His whole life had lived inside that voice — the slow ache, the barroom truth, the way he could make heartbreak sound less like a song and more like something you had survived. But Vern did not disappear. He kept writing. Kept singing. Kept carrying the nickname people had given him for a reason: The Voice. This was the same man who recorded “Chiseled in Stone,” a song so brutally honest about grief that it still feels less like entertainment than a warning. The stroke stole strength from him. Time, too. In 2009, another stroke came, and Vern Gosdin was gone at 74. But it never took the truth out of him. The doctors gave Vern more time. Vern spent it meaning every single word.

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THE DOCTORS COULDN’T PROMISE LORETTA LYNN HER VOICE WOULD COME BACK. SHE ONLY WANTED TO KNOW IF SHE COULD STILL SING. In May 2017, just weeks after her 85th birthday, Loretta Lynn suffered a stroke at her ranch in Hurricane Mills. It weakened the left side of her body and brought more than half a century of touring to a halt. For anyone else, that would have been frightening enough. But for Loretta, the fear cut deeper. Her whole life had lived inside that voice. No one knew exactly how much the stroke would take. Her hearing was affected. So was her timing. The road was gone. The body that had carried the Coal Miner’s Daughter through 57 years of stages no longer obeyed the way it once had. But the voice — somehow — was still there. Loretta fought through therapy, setbacks, and age itself. And in 2021, at 88, she released Still Woman Enough, a title that sounded like everything she had spent her life proving. On October 4, 2022, Loretta died peacefully in her sleep at home. She was 90. The stroke took the road from her. It never took the song.