About the song
Few voices in American music have resonated across genres and generations quite like **Linda Ronstadt**’s. A singular talent who moved seamlessly between rock, country, folk, and pop, Ronstadt had a gift for taking a song—any song—and making it wholly her own. Her 1977 cover of **“Poor Poor Pitiful Me”**, originally penned and recorded by Warren Zevon, is a perfect example of this alchemy. It’s a track that, in Ronstadt’s hands, becomes something altogether more biting, bold, and deeply resonant.
At first glance, **“Poor Poor Pitiful Me”** might sound like just another bluesy rock number—gritty guitars, a driving rhythm, and a melody built to stick in your head. But Ronstadt brings an unmistakable energy and nuance to the piece that elevates it well beyond its structure. Zevon’s original version was laced with sardonic male bravado, a kind of wry self-pity. But Ronstadt, ever the interpreter, flips the script. With her powerhouse vocals, she reframes the song from a female perspective, introducing a satirical edge and a sense of empowerment. The result is not just a gender-swapped rendition—it’s a reimagining.
There’s something about the way **Linda Ronstadt** delivers the chorus—“poor, poor, pitiful me”—that feels both mocking and triumphant. She walks a fine line between parody and protest, drawing attention to the tired trope of the “wounded man” while offering a tongue-in-cheek nod to the messiness of romantic entanglements. Her voice, as always, is precise yet emotive, sliding from playful to forceful in a matter of beats.
This version of **“Poor Poor Pitiful Me”** became a hit in its own right, cementing Ronstadt’s reputation not only as a vocal powerhouse but also as a master of interpretation. She didn’t just sing songs—she inhabited them. And in this track, she transformed a clever rock tune into a bold feminist anthem, all while keeping it radio-friendly and irresistibly catchy.
Video
Lyrics
Well, I lay my head on the railroad track
Waiting on the double E
But the train don’t run by here no more
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Oh, these boys won’t let me be
Lord, have mercy on me
Woah-woah, is me
Well, I met a man out in Hollywood
Now I ain’t naming names
Well, he really worked me over good
Just like Jesse James
Yes, he really worked me over good
He was a credit to his gender
Put me through some changes, Lord
Sort of like a waring blender
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Oh, these boys won’t let me be
Lord, have mercy on me
Woah-woah, is me
Well, I met a boy in the Vieux Carres
Down in Yokohama
Picked me up and he threw me down
He said, “Please don’t hurt me, mama”
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Oh, these boys won’t let me be
Lord, have mercy on me
Woah-woah, is me
Poor, poor, poor me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor, poor me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor, poor me
Poor, poor pitiful me
