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Introduction

When you first hear “Must’ve Been Drunk,” it’s the kind of song that immediately strikes a chord—both for its clever lyrics and the raw emotion it carries. It’s a song that feels like a confessional, the kind of conversation you have late at night when the walls come down, and the truth starts pouring out.

The song beautifully captures the complexities of regret, humor, and honesty all wrapped up in one. The title itself hints at the story—a tale of waking up to the consequences of a night fueled by liquid courage and realizing that maybe, just maybe, you said or did things you wouldn’t have if you were sober. It’s relatable, almost painfully so, as it touches on those moments we’ve all had where we wish we could turn back time, just a little.

But what makes “Must’ve Been Drunk” truly special is the way it walks the fine line between humor and heartache. It’s not just a song about regret; it’s also about accepting our flaws and laughing at ourselves, understanding that life is messy and imperfect, and that’s okay. The lyrics paint a vivid picture, and the melody carries it home, making it the kind of song you can’t help but hum along to, even as you’re reflecting on your own ‘must’ve been drunk’ moments.

This song isn’t just about a single experience; it’s a mirror reflecting those universal feelings of vulnerability and the consequences that come with it. It’s for anyone who’s ever woken up with a heavy heart and a head full of questions about what happened the night before. “Must’ve Been Drunk” is more than just a tune—it’s a testament to the human experience, a reminder that we’re all just doing our best, even when we stumble.

Video

Lyrics

I remember a girl from the Salvation Army
Walked into the barroom last night
Well, she took out her bible and sat down beside us
And proceeded to show us the light
Well, we must’ve been drunk
When we said we’d stop drinking
A double shot over the line
Oh, we had to be drunk
Lord what were we thinkin’
Well, we must have been out of our minds
Well, I rolled a smoke, as she read us a scripture
St. Peter, St. Luke and St. Paul
And I said, now how come your talkin’ about walkin’ on water
to two drunks who can’t even crawl
Well, we must’ve been drunk
When we said we’d stop drinking
A double shot over the line
Oh, we had to be drunk
Lord what were we thinkin’
Well, we must have been out of our minds
I was down on my knees the last I remember
She was prayin’ me back to the fold
And I might have promised that I’d give up the bottle
but Jack Daniels walked off with my soul
Well, we must’ve been drunk
When we said we’d stop drinking
A double shot over the line
Oh, we had to be drunk
Lord what were we thinkin’
Well, we must have been out of our minds
Well, we must’ve been drunk
When we said we’d stop drinking
A double shot over the line
Oh, we had to be drunk
Lord what were we thinkin’
Well, we must have been out of our minds
Well, we must have been out of our minds

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“WHEN I GET WHERE I’M GOING” WAS ALWAYS A SONG ABOUT WHAT COMES AFTER THIS LIFE. AFTER DOLLY PARTON’S DEATH ON AUGUST 25, 2026, HER VOICE IN IT NO LONGER SOUNDS LIKE IT IS SINGING ABOUT SOME DISTANT DAY. Brad Paisley recorded “When I Get Where I’m Going” in 2005, with Dolly Parton joining him on harmony vocals. Written by George Teren and Rivers Rutherford, the song imagines reaching a place beyond pain, fear and earthly struggle, then being reunited with people who have already gone. Paisley had recently lost an aunt to cancer and believed Dolly’s voice could give the record the spiritual quality he wanted. Dolly understood immediately what the song carried. She later told the writers it was one of the greatest songs she had ever heard and one of the recordings she was proudest to have been part of. She had also heard it played at the funeral of a close friend, where its meaning had already moved beyond radio and into real grief. Released as a single from Paisley’s *Time Well Wasted*, the duet reached No. 1 on Billboard’s country chart in 2006. It became Dolly’s 25th country chart-topper and won major CMA and ACM honors. The video made the message even more personal. People appeared holding photographs of loved ones they had lost. Dolly herself held a photograph of her grandfather, Rev. Jake Owens. There was no elaborate story to explain what the song meant; the faces and photographs did most of the work. For twenty years, listeners brought the record to funerals, memorials and private moments of grief. Then, on August 25, 2026, Dolly Parton died in Nashville at 80. Now the recording carries an inversion nobody intended when it was made. Brad Paisley is still singing toward somewhere he hopes to reach one day. But the harmony beside him belongs to Dolly Parton—a woman the world is now mourning, and whose husband Carl Dean had already died the year before. For years, Dolly helped other people hear this song when they were trying to imagine where someone they loved had gone. After August 25, millions of listeners suddenly had one more person to picture there.

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PAUL ENGLISH HAD NEVER PLAYED DRUMS WHEN WILLIE NELSON ASKED HIM TO FILL IN ON A RADIO SHOW. HE WAS A FORT WORTH HUSTLER HEADED TOWARD PRISON OR WORSE — AND THAT ACCIDENTAL GIG TURNED INTO A 70-YEAR FRIENDSHIP. In the mid-1950s, Willie Nelson was still a Fort Worth disc jockey with a small live country program. Paul English came to the station because his older brother Oliver was playing with Willie. When the regular drummer failed to appear, someone looked at Paul. He had never played drums. English later remembered being given a snare, brushes and simple instructions: keep time. He tapped along, came back for more broadcasts and gradually added a bass drum, hi-hat and cymbal. Willie later said Paul essentially learned to play behind him. But music was only part of English’s life. Fort Worth’s underworld offered better money. English became a street hustler and pimp, developed a reputation as an intimidating fixer and moved through circles far removed from country radio. Willie left Texas for Nashville, and for years their paths separated. Then Willie needed a drummer again. English heard about the opening and tracked him down. Willie mentioned another Fort Worth drummer he was considering. Paul answered, “I’m better’n him.” Willie offered roughly $30 a night. English took the job. From the mid-1960s forward, he became far more than the man behind the kit. English served as Willie’s road manager, accountant, bodyguard and enforcer. He carried a gun, collected money from promoters and watched Willie’s back through endless one-nighters, broken-down vehicles and the chaotic years before the Family became one of country music’s most famous road bands. Willie eventually turned their adventures into “Me and Paul.” English stayed in the Family for decades, later sharing percussion duties with his brother Billy and continuing to tour even after health problems slowed him. He died in 2020 at 87. Looking back, Paul said Willie had saved his life. Without that road, he believed, the alternatives were simple: prison or an early grave. The man hired because another drummer failed to show eventually became the person Willie trusted when the stage was the easy part of the night.