About the song
There are few artists in country music as revered and resilient as **Reba McEntire**, and perhaps no song in her catalog better encapsulates her dramatic flair, emotional depth, and storytelling brilliance than **”Fancy.”** Originally written and recorded by **Bobbie Gentry** in 1969, it was **Reba McEntire’s** 1990 cover that truly turned this Southern gothic ballad into a cultural touchstone. With her unmistakable voice and commanding stage presence, **McEntire** transformed **”Fancy”** into more than a song—it became a declaration of survival, empowerment, and defiance.
At its heart, **”Fancy”** is a rags-to-riches tale told through the eyes of a woman who rises from abject poverty to wealth and independence, not through luck or inheritance, but through her own controversial choices. Her mother, faced with dire circumstances and desperate to save her daughter from a cycle of poverty, dresses her up in a red satin dress and sends her out into the world with a haunting farewell: *“Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down.”* The line is at once a blessing and a burden, and it echoes throughout the song like a prayer half-whispered and half-wept.
What makes **Reba McEntire’s** interpretation so powerful is not just her vocal control—though that is impeccable—but her ability to embody the character. She sings not just *as* Fancy, but *for* every woman who has had to make impossible choices in impossible circumstances. Her performance, both in the studio and on stage, is raw and unapologetic, demanding that listeners reconsider their judgments about dignity, morality, and survival.
By the time **”Fancy”** reaches its defiant conclusion—*“I might have been born just plain white trash, but Fancy was my name”*—what began as a story of desperation becomes a triumph of self-reclamation. It’s no wonder the song has become one of **Reba McEntire’s** signature numbers. It resonates deeply with listeners of all backgrounds, but particularly with those who understand what it means to persevere in the face of shame, judgment, and hardship.
In the canon of country music, **”Fancy”** stands as a master class in narrative songwriting and interpretive performance. And in the hands of **Reba McEntire**, it becomes not just a story—it becomes a legacy.
Video
Lyrics
I remember it all very well lookin’ back
It was the summer I turned eighteen
We lived in a one-room, run-down shack
On the outskirts of New Orleans
We didn’t have money for food or rent
To say the least we were hard-pressed
Then mama spent every last penny we had
To buy me a dancin’ dress
Mama washed and combed and curled my hair
And she painted my eyes and lips
Then I stepped into a satin dancin’ dress
That had a split on the side clean up to my hips
It was red velvet trim and it fit me good
Standin’ back from the lookin’ glass
There stood a woman where a half-grown kid had stood
She said, “Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down
Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down”
Mama dabbed a little bit of perfume on my neck, then she kissed my cheek
And then I saw the tears wellin’ up in her troubled eyes when she started to speak
She looked at her pitiful shack
And then she looked at me and took a ragged breath
She said, “Your pa’s runned off, I’m real sick
And the baby’s gonna starve to death”
She handed me a heart-shaped locket that said
“To thine own self be true.”
And I shivered as I watched a roach crawl across
The toe of my high-heeled shoe
It sounded like somebody else that was talkin’
Askin’, “Mama, what do I do?”
She said, “Just be nice to the gentlemen, Fancy
And they’ll be nice to you.”
She said, “Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down
Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down
Lord, forgive me for what I do
But if you want out, well, it’s up to you
Now don’t let me down
Now your mama’s gonna move you uptown”
Well, that was the last time I saw my ma
The night I left that rickety shack
The welfare people came and took the baby
Mama died and I ain’t been back
But the wheels of fate had started to turn
And for me there was no way out
It wasn’t very long ’til I knew exactly
What my mama’d been talkin’ about
I knew what I had to do and I made myself this solemn vow
That I’s gonna be a lady someday
Though I didn’t know when or how
But I couldn’t see spending the rest of my life
With my head hung down in shame
You know I might have been born just plain white trash
But Fancy was my name
She said, “Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down”
She said, “Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down”
It wasn’t long after that benevolent man took me in off the street
And one week later I was pourin’ his tea in a five-room hotel suite (yes, she was)
I charmed a king, a congressman and an occasional aristocrat
And then I got me a Georgia mansion and an elegant New York townhouse flat
And I ain’t done bad (she ain’t been bad)
Now in this world, there’s a lot of self-righteous hypocrites
That would call me bad
They criticize my mama for turning me out
No matter how little we had
But though I ain’t had to worry ’bout nothin’ for now on fifteen years
Well, I can still hear the desperation in my poor mama’s voice ringin’ in my ears
“Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down”
She said, “Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down
Lord, forgive me for what I do
But if you want out, well, it’s up to you
Now don’t let me down
Now your Mama’s gonna move you uptown”
Well, I guess she did
