John Prine, Army Vet died this year: His Legacy: Sam Stone

Sam Stone came home
To his wife and family
After serving in the conflict overseas
And the time that he served
Had shattered all his nerves
And left a little shrapnel in his knees
But the morphine eased the pain
And the grass grew round his brain
And gave him all the confidence he lacked
With a purple heart and a monkey on his backThere’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin’ I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears
Don’t stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radiosSam Stone’s welcome home
Didn’t last too long
He went to work when he’d spent his last dime
And Sam, he took to stealing
When he got that empty feeling
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime
And the gold roared through his veins
Like a thousand railroad trains
And eased his mind in the hours that he chose
While the kids ran around wearin’ other peoples’ clothesThere’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin’ I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears
Don’t stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radiosSam Stone was alone
When he popped his last balloon
Climbing walls while sitting in a chair
Well, he played his last request
While the room smelled just like death
With an overdose hovering in the air
But life had lost its fun
There was nothing to be done
But trade his house that he bought on the GI bill
For a flag-draped casket on a local hero’s hillThere’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin’ I suppose
Little pitchers have big ears
Don’t stop to count the years
Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios

John Prine was born in Maywood, Illinois, in 1946 but grew up in Chicago. There, he attended Old Town School of Fold Music. Soon after graduation, his number came up in the draft. He left Chicago for Germany where he worked as an Army mechanic. While in Germany, he asked his dad to mail his guitar. Once it arrived, Prine spent his evenings in the barracks playing and singing all the songs he knew. He never imagined he could make a living as a singer and songwriter.

Following his service, Prine returned to Chicago where he worked as a mail carrier. While he walked his mail route during the day, he composed songs in his head and then spent his nights at a bar called Fifth Peg. He went on stage on a dare, but the crowd loved him. The bar’s owner asked him to perform weekly. Critics noticed him, and in 1971, he released his first album.

Rolling Stone once called him the Mark Twain of American songwriting. His career in music spanned 40 years. He lived in Nashville with his wife Fiona and their three sons, Jack, Tommy and Jody.

Prine passed away April 7, 2020.

We honor his service.