Of all the moments that capture Dolly Parton’s musical talents, fierce intelligence and driving ambition, I often find myself thinking back to an awkward, ad-libbed live television duet on “The Porter Wagoner Show.”
The year was 1973. Parton had been performing alongside Wagoner on the syndicated variety show since 1967. Though this had been her big break in Nashville, Parton was feeling confined by playing second fiddle to Wagoner, who, as her producer, often took control of the musical arrangements of her songs. Despite Parton’s commercial success, he was often dismissive of her creative vision.
With Parton and Wagoner set to perform “Run That By Me One More Time” – a song Parton had written in 1970, about a marital quarrel – Wagoner begins by saying, “Me and my sidekick, she just kicked me in the side.” Dolly retorts, “Not yet, but I think I will after this.”
After the two sing the opening lines, Parton dives into her verse:
“Well you’re late again I see
What’s your excuse this time?
Don’t try to kiss and make up
When you smell so strong from wine.”
Right as Wagoner moves in to sing his excuse for coming home late, Parton unexpectedly interrupts him by singing a prolonged, “Well, I –” as if she were going to sing another line. Wagoner, caught by surprise, pauses. Parton laughs, “I thought I’d throw that in.” A flustered Wagoner asks Parton where they are in the song.
Back on track, Wagoner begins the next verse, demanding to know what Parton has done with the rent money. She ad-libs her explanation: “You seen me put that money in that cookie jar the same day you brought it home and one day I come back from shopping and I looked and every dime of that money was gone but I didn’t get it and you know I didn’t get it.”
She’s gone well over her allotted time, and Wagoner starts singing his planned retort. But Parton doesn’t let up and starts speaking over him: “I didn’t get it. I don’t know who got it but I don’t want you packing it on me no more.”
Guffaws are audible from the crowd. All Wagoner can do is awkwardly laugh as he says, “Would you run – me by that one more time.” https://www.youtube.com/embed/BpeCa8rud3Q?wmode=transparent&start=0 Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner perform ‘Run That By Me One More Time’ on a 1973 episode of ‘The Porter Wagoner Show.’
Wagoner eventually recovers and the two cheerfully finish the song to applause. But for anyone watching, it’s clear who’s in control and whose song it is.
A year later, Parton left the show after writing the hit songs “Jolene” and “I Will Always Love You.” Her 1976 album, “All I Can Do,” was nominated for a Grammy for Best Country Vocal Performance, Female.
The rest – 25 No. 1 country singles, 10 Grammy awards, 44 Top 10 country albums – is history.
Turning the tables
Parton, who died on Aug. 25, 2026, didn’t simply tell jokes for cheap chuckles.
In my work as a scholar of country music, I’ve written about how female country artists from the mid-20th century to the 2010s deployed humor to elbow their way into an industry that has often been hostile to women.
Throughout the genre’s history, female country artists could be treated as window dressing for the male main attractions. And when women did achieve success, the industry could be quick to portray them as climbers who abandoned their country roots in pursuit of pop stardom.
Women also traditionally have had a harder time getting recording contracts and radio airplay. As recently as 2015, radio consultant Keith Hill controversially said that country stations should play mostly male artists, describing men as the “lettuce” and women as the “tomatoes” in a salad.
One way female artists fought back? By using humor to upend expectations about how women should behave.
In Lulu Belle’s comedic take on marriage in her 1939 song “I Wish I Was a Single Girl Again,” she plays the part of the female rube. By assuming the caricature of female hillbilly, she was able to do or say things that a conventionally respectable female character couldn’t.
Similarly, June Carter often played the unruly country girl who aimed her punchlines at male hosts and duet partners, including Johnny Cash. And in the uproarious “Got My Name Changed Back,” the contemporary trio Pistol Annies use humor to turn the pain of divorce into a celebration of female empowerment.
But few have ever wielded humor as deftly as Parton. She used quick-witted retorts and self-deprecating jokes as weapons to disarm audiences and shine a spotlight on double standards and gendered biases.
She often did this by making men the butt of her jokes. Take two of Parton’s first commercial hits: “Dumb Blonde,” written by Curly Putman, and her self-penned “Something Fishy.” In “Dumb Blonde,” Parton tells the story of a cheating man who, upon being confronted, angrily accuses her of being a “dumb blonde.” After announcing that “this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool,” the song’s narrator triumphantly declares, “If there’s one thing this blonde has learned, blondes have more fun,” before walking away from the relationship on her own terms. “Something Fishy” is another song about a cheater. Parton’s lyrics contrast the man’s thin lies about “going on fishing trips” with her suspicion of his infidelities. “Something fishy is going on,” she says wryly, playing up the pun. The audience is in on the mockery of this dim-witted man, whose astute wife can see right through him. In the same way that Parton took the spotlight from Wagoner during that televised duet in 1973 – and makes it clear who’s in control and who isn’t – Parton also took control of the narrative of her career. When critics questioned her commitment to country, she demonstrated that popular stardom and country authenticity were not mutually exclusive. When they condemned her ambition, she made no apologies for wanting more. When they tried to ridicule her look, she owned her Dolly image by means of her wit. As Parton would often say, “It costs a lot of money to look this cheap.” There’s so much in that line. For one, it’s hilarious. But it also signals that she intentionally crafted her campy persona, and that her calculated appearance also contributed to her wild success. That was Dolly: self-deprecating, self-aware, self-assured and, yes – wickedly funny. Stephanie Vander Wel, Associate Professor of Music, University at Buffalo This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.Dolly’s world
