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 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 saccharin

At a drug store sale

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!

The searchlight 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 nothing on me

Come to me, run to me

Come to me now

We’re rolling, my sweetheart

We’re flowing, by God!