Sam Stone - John Prine (cover-live by Bill Sharkey)

Sam Stone (John Prine, 1972). Live cover performance by Bill Sharkey, Home Studio, Hawaii Kai, HI. 2022-12-11. "Keeping the Oldies & Classics Alive"

"Sam Stone," written by John Prine, appeared on his first self-titled album in 1972 (Whitburn, 2006). Prine was a mechanic in the Army and stationed in Germany during the Viet Nam War; the song was written with his veteran friends in mind (J. Bevigliab, americansongwriter, 2022). As he explained: "There's no one person who was the basis for Sam Stone, more like three or four people; like a couple of my buddies who came back from Vietnam and some of the guys I served with in the Army. . . . At that time, all the other Vietnam songs were basic protest songs . . . I don't remember any other songs that talked about the soldiers at all. . . . All my buddies came home changed. . . . They weren't the same. I was trying to explain that to myself, and that's how I wrote 'Sam Stone'" (songfacts, 2022).

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Lyrics:

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 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

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 its fun
There was nothing to be done
But trade his house that he bought on the G.I. 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