“He’s got muscles in his head he’s never even used.” John Prine
An artist I never hear of in the mainstream conscience is John Prine, but as a young man I found his song lyrics full of wit and the vigor of life. His unique perceptions were so well written into verse. I suppose his Dylanesque voice was a handicap to mainstream popularity and longevity, but as a lyricist, I would listen to him any day over having to endure that mainstream fluff called pop music.
I wanted to take the time to share a couple of his song lyrics in this post.
So, if you have never heard or delved into his work, take a moment to bathe in the blessing of wit.
SamStone
Sam Stone came home,
To the 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 morhpine 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.
Sam Stone’s welcome home
Didn’t last too long.
He went to work when he’d spent his last dime
And soon 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’ 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.
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 it’s 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 they 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.
Songwriters: John Prine
Hello in there
We had an apartment in the city
Me and Loretta liked living there
Well, it’d been years since the kids had grown
A life of their own left us alone
John and Linda live in Omaha
And Joe is somewhere on the road
We lost Davy in the Korean war
And I still don’t know what for, don’t matter anymore
Ya’ know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder ev’ry day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, “Hello in there, hello”
Me and Loretta, we don’t talk much more
She sits and stares through the back door screen
And all the news just repeats itself
Like some forgotten dream that we’ve both seen
Someday I’ll go and call up Rudy
We worked together at the factory
But what could I say if he asks “What’s new?”
“Nothing, what’s with you? Nothing much to do”
So if you’re walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes
Please don’t just pass ’em by and stare
As if you didn’t care, say, “Hello in there, hello”
Songwriters: John Prine
Hello in There lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc
Paradise
When I was a child my family would travel
Down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born
And there’s a backwards old town that’s often remembered
So many times that my memories are worn
And daddy won’t you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I’m sorry my son, but you’re too late in asking
Mister Peabody’s coal train has hauled it away
Well, sometimes we’d travel right down the Green River
To the abandoned old prison down by Airdrie Hill
Where the air smelled like snakes and we’d shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill
And daddy won’t you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I’m sorry my son, but you’re too late in asking
Mr. Peabody’s coal train has hauled it away
Then the coal company came with the world’s largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well, they dug for their coal till the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man
And daddy won’t you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I’m sorry my son, but you’re too late in asking
Mr. Peabody’s coal train has hauled it away
When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I’ll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin’
Just five miles away from wherever I am
Songwriters: John Prine
After once again listening to Sam Stone, I just want to reference my deep concerns for the opioid medications that are produced and administered to patients. I found them to be much inferior to the non narcotic pain killer I received in the ER prior to being admitted to the hospital. It was the most effective for the pain, lasted the longest and caused the least effects outside of that purpose. The opioid crisis can and should be curtailed through the promotion and use of such superior pain killers.
My upcoming book “THE GOLDEN STALLION” is a middle school fiction book about the tribulations of Jeepers Creepers, a young fellow faced with the opioid temptations and allures of Doofus, The Rat. It is presented simply as a young persons story to illustrate the misconceptions and addictive choices surrounding these drugs. If you care about helping solve the opioid problem, please order an advanced copy of this book. You can do so by contacting me personally at maryandrichard@quickturtlebooks.com. I think you will be very grateful to receive and have it for your children and grandchildren.
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®
Some of his lines are precious.
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Yes, love this! John Prine is brilliant!
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