John Prine (born October 10, 1946 in Maywood, Illinois-died April 7, 2020 in Nashville, Tennessee) was an American country/folk singer-songwriter who has achieved widespread critical (and some commercial) success since the early 1970s.
The son of William Prine and Verna Hamm, his grandfather had played guitar with Merle Travis and he started playing guitar himself at 14 years old. He was a postman for 5 years and spent a couple of years in the army before starting his musical career in the Chicago area.
Four years of hard work!This month of May we celebrated four years on the air. We continue working on the dissemination of this wonderful instrument, thank you for participating in our story!
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------# #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the # #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. # #------------------------------------------------------------------------------## #
From: [email protected] (Sam Booker) Subject: PRO:this_love_is_real by john prine Date: Wed, 14 Feb 1996 14:45:32 -0700 (MST)
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE--------------------------------- #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #------------------------------------------------------------------------------ {no_grid:} # {t:This Love Is Real} {st:(John Prine/Lee Clayton)} {st:From the John Prine album "Lost Dogs and Mixed Blessings" ( Oh Boy Records, 1995)} # # Chords and enhancements by Sam Booker ([email protected]) # Initial Chords by [email protected] (Dave Klein) # {ci:Intro:} [D] # [D]I can taste your li[A]pstick in the w[D]ine, [G]I can feel your h[A]eartbeat close to m[D]ine. W[G]ith your love wrapped a[A]round me, I'm [D]sile[C]nt and st[G]ill.[C] [G] [C] [G] I [G]know that t[A]his love is r[D]eal.
[D]I have tasted other l[A]ips I thought were t[D]rue, I have lo[G]oked into the e[A]yes I thought were y[D]ou. Now [G]touching j[A]ust to touch, And fe[D]eling j[C]ust to F[G]eel,[C] [G] [C] [G] I [G]know that th[A]is love is r[D]eal.
{ci:Instrumental:} [D] [A] [D] [G] [A] [D] [G] [A] [D] [C] [G] [C] [G] [C] [G] [G] [A] [D] # [Bm]Someone should tell our dreams when love is g[A]one, [Bm]While still in slumber, memories linger [A]on [Bm]Sometimes I lie awake in bed till da[A]wn, Thinking of y[G]ou, now you're g[A]one
[D]Tender is the h[A]eart that sleeps in re[D]st, Te[G]nder is the h[A]ope of tende[D]rness L[G]ove thy neighbor as thy[A]self And t[D]hou sh[C]all not st[G]eal [C] [G] [C] [G] I[G] know that t[A]his love is r[D]eal. L[G]ove thy neighbor as thy[A]self And t[D]hou sh[C]all not st[G]eal [C] [G] [C] [G] I[G] know that t[A]his love is r[D]eal. [G] [D]