Among all the moments that capture Dolly Parton’s musical talent, fierce intelligence, and driving ambition, one that stands out is an awkward, ad-libbed live television duet on “The Porter Wagoner Show.”

The year was 1973. Parton had been performing alongside Wagoner on the syndicated variety show since 1967. Although the program had been her big break in Nashville, Parton felt confined playing second fiddle to Wagoner, who, as her producer, often took control of the musical arrangements of her songs. Despite her commercial success, he frequently dismissed her creative vision.

As the two prepared to perform “Run That By Me One More Time” — a song Parton had written in 1970 about a marital quarrel — Wagoner opened by saying, “Me and my sidekick, she just kicked me in the side.” Dolly retorted, “Not yet, but I think I will after this.”

After the two sang the opening lines, Parton delivered her verse:

“Well you’re late again I see
What’s your excuse this time?
Don’t try to kiss and make up
When you smell so strong from wine.”

Just as Wagoner moved in to sing his excuse for coming home late, Parton unexpectedly interrupted him with a prolonged “Well, I –” as if she were launching into another line. Wagoner, caught by surprise, paused. Parton laughed, “I thought I’d throw that in.” A flustered Wagoner had to ask her where they were in the song.

Back on track, Wagoner began the next verse, demanding to know what Parton had done with the rent money. She ad-libbed her explanation: “You seen me put that money in that cookie jar the same day you brought it home and one day I come back from shopping and I looked and every dime of that money was gone but I didn’t get it and you know I didn’t get it.”

She had gone well over her allotted time, and Wagoner started singing his planned retort. But Parton did not let up, speaking over him: “I didn’t get it. I don’t know who got it but I don’t want you packing it on me no more.”

Guffaws were audible from the crowd. All Wagoner could do was laugh awkwardly as he said, “Would you run – me by that one more time.”

Wagoner eventually recovered, and the two cheerfully finished the song to applause. But for anyone watching, it was clear who was in control and whose song it was. Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner performed “Run That By Me One More Time” on a 1973 episode of “The Porter Wagoner Show” (video).

A year later, Parton left the show after writing the hit songs “Jolene” and “I Will Always Love You” — the latter written as a farewell to Wagoner as she struck out on her own. Her 1976 album, “All I Can Do,” was nominated for a Grammy for Best Country Vocal Performance, Female. Going solo also positioned her for the crossover success that would later make her one of the most recognizable figures in American popular music, spanning country, pop, film and television.

The rest — 25 No. 1 country singles, 10 Grammy awards, 44 Top 10 country albums — is history.

Turning the tables

Parton, who died on Aug. 25, 2026, did not simply tell jokes for cheap chuckles.

As a scholar of country music, I have written about how female country artists from the mid-20th century to the 2010s deployed humor to elbow their way into an industry that has often been hostile to women.

Throughout the genre’s history, female country artists were frequently treated as window dressing for the male main attractions. And when women did achieve success, the industry could be quick to portray them as climbers who abandoned their country roots in pursuit of pop stardom — a charge Parton herself faced directly when she moved toward pop in the late 1970s.

Women also traditionally had a harder time getting recording contracts and radio airplay. As recently as 2015, radio consultant Keith Hill controversially said that country stations should play mostly male artists, describing men as the “lettuce” and women as the “tomatoes” in a salad. The ensuing “Saladgate” controversy underscored how persistent those attitudes remained decades after Parton made her television debut.

One way female artists fought back was by using humor to upend expectations about how women should behave.

In Lulu Belle’s comedic take on marriage in her 1939 song “I Wish I Was a Single Girl Again,” she played the part of the female rube. By assuming the caricature of the female hillbilly, she could do or say things that a conventionally respectable female character could not.

Similarly, June Carter often played the unruly country girl who aimed her punchlines at male hosts and duet partners, including Johnny Cash. And in the uproarious “Got My Name Changed Back,” the contemporary trio Pistol Annies — which includes Parton’s fellow artist Miranda Lambert — used humor to turn the pain of divorce into a celebration of female empowerment. That lineage shows how the comedic strategy Parton perfected on live television in the 1970s carried forward into the genre’s later generations.

But few have ever wielded humor as deftly as Parton. She used quick-witted retorts and self-deprecating jokes as weapons to disarm audiences and shine a spotlight on double standards and gendered biases.

She often did this by making men the butt of her jokes.

Consider two of Parton’s first commercial hits: “Dumb Blonde,” written by Curly Putman, and her self-penned “Something Fishy.”

In “Dumb Blonde,” Parton tells the story of a cheating man who, upon being confronted, angrily accuses her of being a “dumb blonde.” After announcing that “this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool,” the song’s narrator triumphantly declares, “If there’s one thing this blonde has learned, blondes have more fun,” before walking away from the relationship on her own terms.

“Something Fishy” is another song about a cheater. Parton’s lyrics contrast the man’s thin lies about “going on fishing trips” with her suspicion of his infidelities.

“Something fishy is going on,” she says wryly, playing up the pun. The audience is in on the mockery of this dim-witted man, whose astute wife can see right through him.

Dolly’s world

Just as Parton took the spotlight from Wagoner during that televised duet in 1973 — making clear who was in control and who was not — Parton also took control of the narrative of her career. When critics questioned her commitment to country, she demonstrated that popular stardom and country authenticity were not mutually exclusive. When they condemned her ambition, she made no apologies for wanting more. When they tried to ridicule her look, she owned her Dolly image by means of her wit.

As Parton would often say, “It costs a lot of money to look this cheap.”

There is so much in that line. For one, it is hilarious. But it also signals that she intentionally crafted her campy persona, and that her calculated appearance contributed to her wild success.

That was Dolly: self-deprecating, self-aware, self-assured and, yes — wickedly funny.

Stephanie Vander Wel, Associate Professor of Music, University at Buffalo

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

This story was originally featured on Fortune.com.