Introduction
When people think of Linda Ronstadt, they often picture the angelic voice, the graceful beauty, and the woman who could turn any melody into gold. But what if I told you that beneath that polished image lies a raw, fearless, and downright rebellious side? Look no further than her explosive rendition of “Poor Poor Pitiful Me.”
This isn’t just a song—it’s a sonic punch in the gut. Written by Warren Zevon, the track was already laced with irony and bite, but when Ronstadt got her hands on it, she transformed it into a cultural earthquake. Her version hit like a thunderclap in 1977, shattering expectations of what a female singer in the so-called “California soft rock” scene was supposed to be.
Let’s be blunt: Linda Ronstadt didn’t just sing this song—she weaponized it. While the original carried Zevon’s sardonic masculine swagger, Ronstadt flipped the script and sang it with a sly smirk, daring the listener to question gender roles, power dynamics, and society’s double standards. She could be playful one moment and dangerous the next, moving from mock sympathy to fiery defiance with a single breath.
The shock? America wasn’t ready for a woman to belt out lines dripping with sarcasm, dark humor, and sexual undertones. Yet Ronstadt didn’t flinch—she leaned in. She made “Poor Poor Pitiful Me” not just a hit, but a statement. It was a wake-up call that she wasn’t just the queen of heartbreak ballads; she was also a fearless interpreter of edgy, controversial material.
In an era where women were still expected to stay “in their lane,” Linda Ronstadt blew through every red light. With this track, she proved that her artistry had no boundaries—and that her voice, equal parts velvet and steel, could make even the most hard-edged song unmistakably hers.
So the next time you hear “Poor Poor Pitiful Me,” don’t just tap your foot. Listen closely. Behind the catchy rhythm and Ronstadt’s soaring voice is a message: Don’t underestimate Linda Ronstadt. She could out-sing anyone—and out-shock them too.
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
