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Introduction

Some songs don’t try to impress you.
They just sit beside you when you need them.

“Storms Never Last” feels exactly like that kind of song.

When Waylon Jennings and Jessi Colter recorded it, they weren’t singing about a perfect love — they were singing about a real one. The kind that survives long nights, hard truths, and the moments when walking away would’ve been easier than staying. Jessi wrote the song herself, and you can feel that honesty in every line. There’s no drama here, no grand promises. Just two people quietly reminding each other that pain doesn’t get the final word.

What makes this song special is how gently it speaks. Waylon’s voice comes in worn but steady, like a man who’s been through the worst and knows it. Jessi’s voice doesn’t overpower him — it supports him. Together, they sound like a conversation held at the kitchen table after a long day, when the house is quiet and the truth finally comes out.

For listeners, “Storms Never Last” often hits hardest when life feels heavy. It’s the song you play when things aren’t fixed yet — but you need to believe they can be. It reminds you that love doesn’t mean the storms stop coming. It means you don’t face them alone.

Decades later, the song still holds up because it never pretended to be anything it wasn’t. It didn’t chase trends. It didn’t raise its voice. It simply told the truth — and sometimes, that’s the most comforting sound there is.

Video

Lyrics

Storms never last, do they, baby?
Bad times all pass with the winds
Your hand in mine stills the thunder
And you make the sun want to shine
I followed you down so many roads, baby
I picked wild flowers and sung you soft sad songs
And every road you took, I know your search was for the truth
And the clouds brewin’ now won’t be your last
Storms never last, do they, babe?
Bad times all pass with the winds
Your hand in mine stills the thunder
And your love makes the sun want to shine
Storms never last, do they, baby?
Bad times all pass with the winds
Your hand in mine stills the thunder
And you make the sun want to shine

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HIS WIFE DIED THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING. THREE WEEKS LATER, THE KING OF HONKY-TONK WAS FOUND DEAD IN THE SAME FLORIDA HOME. Gary Stewart was never built like a clean Nashville star. He came out of Kentucky poverty, grew up in Florida, and sang country music like the bottle was already open before the band counted off. In the mid-1970s, people called him the King of Honky-Tonk. “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles)” went to No. 1 in 1975. But the road under him was never steady. There was the drinking. The drugs. The old back injury. The disappearing years when country music moved on and Gary Stewart kept slipping further from the bright part of the business. Mary Lou was the person who kept showing up beside him. They had been married for more than 40 years. She had seen the bars, the money, the chaos, the fall, the comeback attempts, and the quiet Florida days after the big moment had passed. Then November 26, 2003 came. Mary Lou died of pneumonia, the day before Thanksgiving. Gary canceled his shows. Friends said he was devastated. On December 16, Bill Hardman, his daughter’s boyfriend and Gary’s close friend, went to check on him at his Fort Pierce home. Gary Stewart was dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Fans remember the voice bending around heartbreak like it had nowhere else to go. But the last chapter was not on a stage. It was a widower in Florida, three weeks after losing the woman who had survived the whole honky-tonk storm with him.