Country Music

Classic Country Music Hits

Country Music

Charlie Pride – Kiss an Angel Good Morning

“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.”

Introduction

When you hear the title “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin’,” it’s almost impossible not to feel a wave of warmth and nostalgia. This classic country tune, sung by the legendary Charley Pride, is one of those songs that seems to transcend time. For anyone who’s ever cherished a morning kiss from a loved one, this song feels like a gentle reminder of life’s sweetest moments. First released in 1971, it’s a track that still resonates with listeners today.

About The Composition

  • Title: Kiss an Angel Good Mornin’
  • Composer: Ben Peters
  • Premiere Date: 1971
  • Album: Charley Pride Sings Heart Songs
  • Genre: Country

Background

Written by Ben Peters, “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin'” was released as a single in October 1971 and became one of Charley Pride’s signature songs. The track was included in Pride’s album Charley Pride Sings Heart Songs and quickly climbed to the top of the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart. It also became a crossover hit, reaching the Top 40 on the Billboard Hot 100—a significant achievement for a country song at the time.

The song’s concept is as simple as it is beautiful: it’s about the everyday act of cherishing the one you love. Pride’s warm baritone brought the heartfelt lyrics to life, creating a timeless anthem for devotion and gratitude. “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin'” earned Ben Peters a Grammy Award for Best Country Song in 1972 and became a career-defining hit for Charley Pride, cementing his status as a country music icon.

Musical Style

The song’s musical style is a quintessential example of early 1970s country. With a cheerful melody and an upbeat tempo, it’s driven by a combination of acoustic guitar, pedal steel guitar, and a rhythm section that adds just the right amount of bounce. Pride’s vocal delivery is warm and smooth, perfectly complementing the song’s lighthearted yet sincere tone. The simple yet catchy chorus invites listeners to sing along, making it an enduring favorite in the country music canon.

Lyrics

The lyrics of “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin'” capture the essence of love and commitment. The narrator reveals the secret to his happiness: showing love and appreciation to his partner every single day. Lines like “Kiss an angel good mornin’ / And let her know you think about her when you’re gone” convey a profound yet relatable sentiment. The song’s message is clear: it’s the little acts of love that keep relationships strong.

Performance History

From the moment it was released, “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin'” was a sensation. It became Charley Pride’s eighth number-one hit on the country charts and was performed on numerous television shows and live stages, including the Grand Ole Opry. The song’s popularity also extended internationally, contributing to Pride’s reputation as one of country music’s first African American superstars.

Over the decades, the song has been covered by numerous artists, including Alan Jackson and George Jones, further cementing its place in the country music repertoire. It remains a staple in Pride’s live performances, often met with standing ovations and audience singalongs.

Cultural Impact

“Kiss an Angel Good Mornin'” is more than just a country hit; it’s a cultural touchstone. Its crossover appeal introduced country music to a broader audience, helping to break down racial and genre barriers in the music industry. The song’s enduring popularity is a testament to its universal message and timeless charm.

In addition to its influence on country music, the song has appeared in films, TV shows, and commercials, ensuring that new generations continue to discover and appreciate it. Its title has also become a widely recognized phrase, symbolizing love and affection.

Legacy

More than five decades after its release, “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin'” remains one of Charley Pride’s most beloved songs. It’s a shining example of how music can capture the essence of human emotion and create connections that span generations. The song’s simple yet profound message continues to resonate, making it a cherished classic in country music history.

Conclusion

Listening to “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin'” feels like being wrapped in a warm hug. It’s a reminder to cherish the people we love and to express that love in simple, meaningful ways. Whether you’re a longtime fan of Charley Pride or discovering the song for the first time, its charm is undeniable. For an unforgettable rendition, seek out Charley Pride’s live performances or revisit the original recording on Charley Pride Sings Heart Songs. You’ll be glad you did

Video

Lyrics

… When ever I chance to meet, old friends on the street
They wonder how does a man get to be this way
Always got a smiling face, anytime and any place
And every time they ask me why I just smile and say
… ‘Cause you’ve got to kiss an angel good morning
And let her know you think about her when you’re gone
Kiss an angel good morning
And love her like the devil when you get back home
… Though people may try to guess, the secret of our happiness
But some of them never learn it’s a simple thing
The secret I’ma speaking of, is a woman and a man in love
And the answer is in this song that I always sing
… ‘Cause you’ve got to kiss an angel good morning
And let her know you think about her when you’re gone
Kiss an angel good morning
And love her like the devil when you get back home
… Kiss an angel good morning
And let her know you think about her when you’re gone
Kiss an angel good morning
And love her like the devil when you get back home

Related Post

Country Music

Loretta Lynn was lying in a hospital recovering from exhaustion in July 1984 when her family realized that her son Jack Benny had disappeared from the family ranch. Jack, thirty-four, trained horses and worked as a blacksmith on the Hurricane Mills property. After an argument with his father, he rode away on horseback and did not return. His horse was later found near the Duck River, and search crews began dragging the water while Loretta remained in the hospital, unaware of what they were looking for. For three days, the family searched before Jack’s body was found. Loretta later remembered that something already felt wrong before anyone told her. Her husband, Doo, finally drove to the hospital and gave her the news himself. The loss hit the family hard enough that Loretta stepped back from work for an extended period. Her son Ernest later recalled that they barely worked for nearly three years afterward, a remarkable pause for a woman who had spent most of her adult life moving from stage to stage. Jack’s death never became one of the highly publicized chapters of Loretta’s career, but it changed the rhythm of the family behind it. The woman who had spent decades singing about marriage, motherhood and survival suddenly faced something none of those songs could prepare her for: one of her own children was gone, and there was no stage she could walk onto to make the story come out differently.

Country Music

By the late 1990s, Levon Helm had survived the breakup of The Band, a fire that destroyed most of his home, and throat cancer that left the voice behind “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” barely able to rise above a whisper. Doctors diagnosed the cancer in 1996, and treatment damaged his vocal cords badly enough that singing became uncertain. Helm retreated to the property he had built in Woodstock, New York, where a large wooden barn already served as a recording studio. Instead of walking away from music, he began inviting musicians and small audiences into that room for informal late-night concerts that eventually became known as the Midnight Rambles. The gatherings started as much from necessity as inspiration. Helm needed income to keep the property and studio alive, but the barn also gave him something a large theater could not: a place where he could rebuild his voice slowly, surrounded by musicians who understood when he needed to step back and let the band carry a song. Over time, the whisper strengthened enough for him to sing again. In 2007, more than a decade after the cancer diagnosis, Helm recorded *Dirt Farmer* in the barn, drawing on songs he had learned as a child from his father in Arkansas. The album won a Grammy, followed by two more Grammy-winning projects, including *Ramble at the Ryman*. By then, the building that had once helped Helm survive financially had become a destination of its own, drawing musicians and fans from around the world. Just days before his death in 2012, he left his family a simple instruction about the Rambles he had built there: keep them going. The voice came back, but the larger comeback happened inside the barn itself, where Levon Helm turned the place he was trying to save into the place that saved the final chapter of his career.

Country Music

By the fall of 1982, Marty Robbins had already spent more than a decade living on borrowed time, and almost nobody around him could convince him to behave like a man with a damaged heart. His first major heart attack came in August 1969, followed five months later by bypass surgery at a time when the procedure was still considered experimental. The operation worked well enough that Robbins returned not only to recording and the Grand Ole Opry, but to stock-car racing, where he continued driving at speeds that would have frightened men with perfectly healthy hearts. He was back in NASCAR competition by October 1970 and, after briefly stepping away following several wrecks, returned again in 1977. The contradiction became part of his life. Doctors had repaired blocked arteries, yet Robbins kept filling his calendar with concerts, recording sessions and race weekends, treating recovery less like a warning than permission to keep moving. One of his physicians later remembered that before agreeing to the first bypass operation, Marty wanted reassurance that he would still be allowed to race, and within weeks of leaving the hospital he was already back doing physical work around home. By 1982, the gamble seemed to be paying off in ways few aging country singers experienced. “Some Memories Just Won’t Die” became a Top Ten hit in May, Billboard honored him with its Artist Resurgence Award in October, and that same month Robbins was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. Nearly thirty years after his first national success, the man behind “El Paso” was not being treated as a relic; he was enjoying one of the strongest late-career stretches of his life. He was still racing as late as November. Then, on December 2, after performing in Cincinnati the previous night, Robbins woke at home with severe chest pain and walked into St. Thomas Hospital in Nashville. Tests showed that a massive heart attack had cut off blood flow to a major section of his heart, forcing surgeons into an emergency operation to repair earlier bypasses and add another. He survived the surgery, briefly smiled and squeezed a nurse’s hand, but the damage was too severe for his body to recover. For six days, his wife Marizona and their children remained at the hospital while doctors used a respirator, medications, dialysis and a balloon pump to keep his failing heart working. Robbins died on December 8, 1982, only eight weeks after entering the Country Music Hall of Fame and one month after his final NASCAR race. At his funeral in Nashville, roughly 1,500 people filled the chapel, adjoining rooms and hallways while Johnny Cash, June Carter Cash, Charley Pride, Porter Wagoner, Brenda Lee and other friends gathered with ordinary fans who had traveled through the night to be there. Marty Robbins had spent thirteen years after his first heart attack doing nearly everything doctors might have expected him to surrender. He kept singing, kept racing, returned to the charts, and lived long enough to watch country music place his name in its Hall of Fame before the heart he had repeatedly pushed back into service finally stopped.

You Missed

Country Music

Loretta Lynn was lying in a hospital recovering from exhaustion in July 1984 when her family realized that her son Jack Benny had disappeared from the family ranch. Jack, thirty-four, trained horses and worked as a blacksmith on the Hurricane Mills property. After an argument with his father, he rode away on horseback and did not return. His horse was later found near the Duck River, and search crews began dragging the water while Loretta remained in the hospital, unaware of what they were looking for. For three days, the family searched before Jack’s body was found. Loretta later remembered that something already felt wrong before anyone told her. Her husband, Doo, finally drove to the hospital and gave her the news himself. The loss hit the family hard enough that Loretta stepped back from work for an extended period. Her son Ernest later recalled that they barely worked for nearly three years afterward, a remarkable pause for a woman who had spent most of her adult life moving from stage to stage. Jack’s death never became one of the highly publicized chapters of Loretta’s career, but it changed the rhythm of the family behind it. The woman who had spent decades singing about marriage, motherhood and survival suddenly faced something none of those songs could prepare her for: one of her own children was gone, and there was no stage she could walk onto to make the story come out differently.

Country Music

By the late 1990s, Levon Helm had survived the breakup of The Band, a fire that destroyed most of his home, and throat cancer that left the voice behind “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” barely able to rise above a whisper. Doctors diagnosed the cancer in 1996, and treatment damaged his vocal cords badly enough that singing became uncertain. Helm retreated to the property he had built in Woodstock, New York, where a large wooden barn already served as a recording studio. Instead of walking away from music, he began inviting musicians and small audiences into that room for informal late-night concerts that eventually became known as the Midnight Rambles. The gatherings started as much from necessity as inspiration. Helm needed income to keep the property and studio alive, but the barn also gave him something a large theater could not: a place where he could rebuild his voice slowly, surrounded by musicians who understood when he needed to step back and let the band carry a song. Over time, the whisper strengthened enough for him to sing again. In 2007, more than a decade after the cancer diagnosis, Helm recorded *Dirt Farmer* in the barn, drawing on songs he had learned as a child from his father in Arkansas. The album won a Grammy, followed by two more Grammy-winning projects, including *Ramble at the Ryman*. By then, the building that had once helped Helm survive financially had become a destination of its own, drawing musicians and fans from around the world. Just days before his death in 2012, he left his family a simple instruction about the Rambles he had built there: keep them going. The voice came back, but the larger comeback happened inside the barn itself, where Levon Helm turned the place he was trying to save into the place that saved the final chapter of his career.

Country Music

By the fall of 1982, Marty Robbins had already spent more than a decade living on borrowed time, and almost nobody around him could convince him to behave like a man with a damaged heart. His first major heart attack came in August 1969, followed five months later by bypass surgery at a time when the procedure was still considered experimental. The operation worked well enough that Robbins returned not only to recording and the Grand Ole Opry, but to stock-car racing, where he continued driving at speeds that would have frightened men with perfectly healthy hearts. He was back in NASCAR competition by October 1970 and, after briefly stepping away following several wrecks, returned again in 1977. The contradiction became part of his life. Doctors had repaired blocked arteries, yet Robbins kept filling his calendar with concerts, recording sessions and race weekends, treating recovery less like a warning than permission to keep moving. One of his physicians later remembered that before agreeing to the first bypass operation, Marty wanted reassurance that he would still be allowed to race, and within weeks of leaving the hospital he was already back doing physical work around home. By 1982, the gamble seemed to be paying off in ways few aging country singers experienced. “Some Memories Just Won’t Die” became a Top Ten hit in May, Billboard honored him with its Artist Resurgence Award in October, and that same month Robbins was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. Nearly thirty years after his first national success, the man behind “El Paso” was not being treated as a relic; he was enjoying one of the strongest late-career stretches of his life. He was still racing as late as November. Then, on December 2, after performing in Cincinnati the previous night, Robbins woke at home with severe chest pain and walked into St. Thomas Hospital in Nashville. Tests showed that a massive heart attack had cut off blood flow to a major section of his heart, forcing surgeons into an emergency operation to repair earlier bypasses and add another. He survived the surgery, briefly smiled and squeezed a nurse’s hand, but the damage was too severe for his body to recover. For six days, his wife Marizona and their children remained at the hospital while doctors used a respirator, medications, dialysis and a balloon pump to keep his failing heart working. Robbins died on December 8, 1982, only eight weeks after entering the Country Music Hall of Fame and one month after his final NASCAR race. At his funeral in Nashville, roughly 1,500 people filled the chapel, adjoining rooms and hallways while Johnny Cash, June Carter Cash, Charley Pride, Porter Wagoner, Brenda Lee and other friends gathered with ordinary fans who had traveled through the night to be there. Marty Robbins had spent thirteen years after his first heart attack doing nearly everything doctors might have expected him to surrender. He kept singing, kept racing, returned to the charts, and lived long enough to watch country music place his name in its Hall of Fame before the heart he had repeatedly pushed back into service finally stopped.

Country Music

When Townes Van Zandt divorced Jeanene Munsell in 1994, he walked away without the most valuable thing he had spent his life building: the rights to his own songs. Townes and Jeanene had met in Austin in December 1980 while he was still legally married to his second wife. They eventually married on March 14, 1983, only ten days before the birth of their son, William Vincent, and later had a daughter, Katie Belle. Their marriage lasted eleven years, through the same period when songs such as “Pancho and Lefty” and “If I Needed You” were becoming increasingly valuable in the hands of other artists. The divorce settlement went far beyond a house or a bank account. According to the decree reproduced in a major Van Zandt biography, Jeanene received Townes’s interest in 126 compositions, including the copyrights, renewals and the writer’s share of future royalties. The transfer covered songs spread across several publishing catalogs and left Townes relying largely on the money he could still earn by performing on the road. Friends found the arrangement difficult to understand because Townes had never treated money with much urgency. Susanna Clark later remembered that even after the separation he would return from touring and hand Jeanene whatever cash he had in his pockets, while others close to him believed he had surrendered far more than most songwriters ever would. Townes and Jeanene remained close after the divorce, and she was still part of the family circle near the end of his life. By then, the songs he had signed away were continuing to travel far beyond him through recordings by Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Emmylou Harris and others. Townes Van Zandt spent much of his life with little interest in possessions, but the divorce made that indifference permanent on paper. He could still stand onstage and sing “Pancho and Lefty,” yet much of the financial value created by the song no longer belonged to him.