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 back
There'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, mmhmm
Sam Stone's welcome home
Didn't last too long
He went to work when he'd spent his last dime
And Sammy took to stealing
When he got that empty feeling
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime
And the gold rolled 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' clothes
There'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, mmhmm
Sam 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 hill
There'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, mmhmm
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: John Prine
Sam Stone lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc
d.: Cal.E. is sleeping, so I’ll do this blog solo. I chose this song to make a point about this blog: I do'n't mead to poke fun at addicts, or the organizations that are set up to help them overcome their addictions.
John Prine was one of my favorite artists, and this, I believe, was one of the best songs ever written. Mr. Prine was a member of my generation. Baby Boomers of all ages can probably remember someone that s/he encountered who was a veteran of the Vietnam “Police Action,”” and suffered dire physical and/or mental consequences.
Mr. Prine passed away almost three years ago, and our word is worse for his loss. He was a talented singer/songwriter who could perform hilarious songs like “ Dear Abby,” (look it up if you’re unfamiliar with the song and want a good laugh) or poignant ones like the one who’s lyrics I put at the beginning of this blog. Prine was an army veteran who was stationed in Germany during the Vietnam Police Action. While he was there, he observed many veterans who had servd in Veitnam, and many of them resembled the fictional Sam Stone.
Prine could be serious, but he also had his silly side. When I read that the way to pacify a cat that was addicted to catnip was to give it the human sleep aid and psych med Trazadone, I decided to write a story line about that addiction in this blog. Some of it may seem silly, but my point was that Cal.E. sought out and got help, and became a productive, successful member of society, something she hadn’t been before seeking help. Anyone can improve his or her lot in life if enough effort is given. Cal.E. is an allegory for a recovered addict who becomes successful in her personal and professional life.
Cal.E. should be back with more of her antics and interesting thoughts tomorrow, along with me, d.c. scot, on another edition of Cal.E.’s Korner
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