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.
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C Sam Stone came home F to his wife and family GC after serving in the conflict overseas
And the time that he served F had shattered all his nerves GC and left a little shrapnel in his knee F But the morphine eased the pain
and the grass grew round his brain D7G and gave him all the confidence he lacked DD7G with a Purple Heart and a monkey on his back
CDm There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes FG and Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose C Little pitchers have big ears Am don't stop to count the years D7DGGGsus4GG sweet songs never last too long on broken radios Mmm
C Sam Stone's welcome home F didn't last too long GC he went to work when he'd spent his last dime
And Sammy took to stealing F when he got that empty feeling GC for a hundred dollar habit without overtime F And the gold rolled through his veins
like a thousand railroad trains D7G and eased his mind in the hours that he chose DD7G while the kids ran around wearin' other peoples' clothes
CDm There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes FG and Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose C Little pitchers have big ears Am don't stop to count the years D7DGGGsus4GG sweet songs never last too long on broken radios Mmm
C Sam Stone was alone F when he popped his last balloon GC climbing walls while sitting in a chair
Well he played his last request F while the room smelled just like death GC with an overdose hovering in the air F But life had lost its fun
and there was nothing to be done D7G but trade his house that he bought on the G I Bill DD7G for a flag draped casket on a local heroes' hill
CDm There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes FG and Jesus Christ died for nothin' I suppose C Little pitchers have big ears Am don't stop to count the years D7DGGGsus4GG sweet songs never last too long on broken radios Mmm