John Prine

It was Christmas in prison and the food was real good
We had turkey and pistols carved out of wood
And I dream of her always even when I don't dream
Her name's on my tongue and her blood's in my stream.

Wait awhile eternity
Old mother nature's got nothing on me
Come to me, run to me, come to me now
We're rolling my sweetheart
We're flowing by God!

She reminds me of a chess game with someone I admire
Or a picnic in the rain after a prairie fire
Her heart is as big as this whole goddamn jail
She's sweeter than saccharine at a drug store sale.


The search light in the big yard swings round with the gun
And spotlights the snowflakes like the dust in the sun
It's Christmas in prison there'll be music tonight
I'll probably get homesick. I love you. Goodnight.