Текст песни Christmas in Prison - 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
nothin'
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
awhile
eternity
Old
mother
nature's
got
nothin'
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
awhile
eternity
Old
mother
nature's
got
nothin'
on
me
Come
to
me
Run
to
me
Come
to
me,
now
We're
rolling
My
sweetheart
We're
flowing
By
God
1 Onomatopoeia
2 Sweet Revenge
3 Please Don't Bury Me
4 Christmas in Prison
5 Dear Abby
6 Blue Umbrella
7 Often Is a Word I Seldom Use
8 Grandpa Was a Carpenter
9 The Accident (Things Could Be Worse)
10 Mexican Home
11 A Good Time
12 Nine Pound Hammer
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