The Greatest Oldies Music

Country

“Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” – Conway Twitty & Loretta Lynn

Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty: Chart Rewind, 1978

About the Song

Ah, love and geography! Country music thrives on stories of star-crossed couples, and Conway Twitty & Loretta Lynn’s duet, “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man”, is a prime example. This classic song, released in 1973, explores the fiery tension and undeniable chemistry that arises when a Southern belle from Louisiana meets a stubborn Mississippi man.

The beauty of the song lies in the back-and-forth between Twitty and Lynn. He, with his deep baritone, embodies the strong, traditional Mississippi character, perhaps a touch set in his ways. Lynn, with her signature sass, portrays the fiery Louisiana woman, unwilling to be tamed. The lyrics, “He likes his catfish fried, I like mine et on a po’boy,” perfectly capture the playful jabs at their cultural differences.

“Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” isn’t all playful banter, though. There’s a simmering attraction beneath the surface. Twitty sings, “She’s got a smile like sunshine, a temper like a storm,” hinting at the woman’s captivating complexity. Lynn counters with, “He’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide, but a heart that’s warm,” acknowledging his gruff exterior that masks a kind soul.

Despite their contrasting personalities and backgrounds, the song emphasizes the undeniable pull between them. Lines like, “We may fight like fire and rain, but somethin’ ’bout us just fits the same,” showcase the universal truth that opposites can attract. “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” celebrates the beauty of finding love in unexpected places, where differences become a source of intrigue rather than a barrier.

The song transcends its geographical references. It’s a story about embracing what makes us unique and finding common ground despite our contrasting backgrounds. Whether you’re from the North or the South, the city or the country, “Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man” reminds us that love can bridge any divide, as long as hearts are open and passions run hot.Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty Live on Hee Haw | Loretta lynn, Conway twitty, Country music

Video 

Lyrics: Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man

[Conway Twitty:]
Hey, Louisiana woman
[Loretta Lynn:]
Mississippi man
[Both:]
We get together every time we can
The Mississippi River can’t keep us apart
[Conway Twitty:]
There’s too much love in this Mississippi heart
[Loretta Lynn:]
Too much love in this Louisiana heart[Conway Twitty:]
See the alligators all a waitin’ nearby
Sooner or later, they know I’m gonna try
When she waved from the bank
Don’t you know I know
It’s a-goodbye fishin’ line, see you while I go
With a Louisiana woman waitin’ on the other side
The Mississippi River don’t look so wide[Conway Twitty:]
Louisiana woman
[Loretta Lynn:]
Mississippi man
[Both:]
We get together every time we can
The Mississippi River can’t keep us apart
[Conway Twitty:]
There’s too much love in this Mississippi heart
[Loretta Lynn:]
Too much love in this Louisiana heart

[Loretta Lynn:]
Well, I thought I’d been loved, but I never had
‘Til I was wrapped in the arms of a Mississippi man
When he holds me close, it feels almost
Like another hurricane just ripped the coast
If he can’t come to me, I’m gonna go to him
That Mississippi River, Lord, I’m gonna swim

[Conway Twitty:]
Hey, Louisiana woman
[Loretta Lynn:]
Mississippi man
[Both:]
We get together every time we can
The Mississippi River can’t keep us apart
[Conway Twitty:]
There’s too much love in this Mississippi heart
[Loretta Lynn:]
Too much love in this Louisiana heart

[Conway Twitty:]
Well, Mississippi River, Lord, it’s one mile wide
And I’m gotta get me to the other side
[Loretta Lynn:]
Mississippi man, I’m a-losin’ my mind
Gotta have your lovin’ one more time
[Conway Twitty:]
I’m gonna jump in the river and here I go
Too bad, alligator, you swim too slow

[Conway Twitty:]
Hey, Louisiana woman
[Loretta Lynn:]
Mississippi man
[Both:]
We get together every time we can
The Mississippi River can’t keep us apart
[Conway Twitty:]
There’s too much love in this Mississippi heart
[Loretta Lynn:]
Too much love in this Louisiana heart
[Conway Twitty:]
There’s too much love in this Mississippi heart
[Loretta Lynn:]
Too much love in this Louisiana heart
[Conway Twitty:]
Hey, there’s too much love in this Mississippi heart
[Loretta Lynn:]
Too much love in this Louisiana heart
[Conway Twitty:]
There’s too much love in this Mississippi heart
[Loretta Lynn:]
Too much love in this Louisiana heart
[Conway Twitty:]
Hey

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HIS FATHER TOLD HIM TO PUT DOWN THE GUITAR. NASHVILLE FORGOT HIM. TWICE. HE CAME BACK IN A WHEELCHAIR AND STILL WOULDN’T SHUT UP. Vern Gosdin grew up hauling rocks and chopping cotton in Woodland, Alabama. His father tried music once, failed, and forbade his son from ever touching a guitar. Vern left home and never looked back — never saw his father again. He moved to California. Then Chicago. Then Nashville. Two record labels went bankrupt under him. Nobody called. Nobody came looking. So he quit, moved to Georgia, and sold glass for a living. But he kept a guitar in his truck. In the late ’70s, he crawled back to Nashville — older, broker, and angrier than every pretty boy on country radio. He didn’t sound trendy. He sounded like a man who’d been through hell and could prove it. Then he wrote “Chiseled in Stone” and beat every superstar in town for CMA Song of the Year. Tammy Wynette called him “the only singer who can hold a candle to George Jones.” In 1998, a stroke stole his voice. He kept writing from a wheelchair. 101 songs. Still fighting. They called him “The Voice.” Nashville called him too late. Does knowing how many times Vern Gosdin had to start over make “Chiseled in Stone” hit even harder now?

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THEY LOOKED LIKE FOUR OUTLAWS WHO COULD OUTRUN TIME ITSELF. BUT WHEN YOU WATCH THE HIGHWAYMEN SING “BIG RIVER” TODAY, THE EMPTY MICROPHONES BREAK YOUR HEART. Onstage, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, and Willie Nelson looked untouchable. Four weathered men, four different wounds, four voices that made country music sound dangerous, honest, and free. When they traded verses on Cash’s “Big River,” it wasn’t just another performance. It was four old brothers chasing the same song down the same river, each one carrying a piece of the road in his voice. Cash brought the thunder. Waylon brought the grit. Kris brought the broken-poet soul. Willie floated above it all with that calm, aching grace only he could carry. Back then, the stage lights made it easy to believe they would always be there. That was the beautiful lie of watching legends stand side by side. But time does what no outlaw ever could: it catches everyone. Today, Cash is gone. Waylon is gone. Kris has crossed the river too. Willie is the only one left, still playing, still standing, still carrying a brotherhood that can never fully gather again. That is why “Big River” feels different now. It is no longer just a song about chasing something you cannot hold. It feels like time itself moving past four men we were not ready to lose. The song remains. But three microphones are empty. Does “Big River” feel heavier now that Willie is the only one left to sing it?

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