John Prine - Christmas in Prison
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 a while 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.
And she's sweeter than saccharine at a drug store sale.
Wait a while 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!
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.
Wait a while 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!
