John Prine (Maywood, Illinois, 10 de octubre de 1946) es un cantautor de country y folk estadounidense con un amplio éxito, tanto de crítica como de público, desde la década de 1970.
Sus padres fueron William Prine y Verna Hamm. Su abuelo había sido guitarrista de Merle Travis y Prine se inició como guitarrista a los catorce años. Durante cinco años trabajó como cartero, e hizo el servicio militar antes de comenzar su carrera musical en Chicago.
¡Cuatro años de duro trabajo!Este mes de mayo cumplimos cuatro años al aire. Seguimos trabajando en la difusión de este maravilloso instrumento, ¡gracias por participar en nuestra historia!
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