Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of John Prine performing his Sam Stone.
Markin comment:
Lately, as a result of particular political events that I have participated in, especially the veteran-led December 16, 2010 civil disobedience action at Obama’s White House in opposition to his Iraq and Afghan Wars, I have been reflecting on my own sense of being a veteran. That has included an observation I made in a commentary about the above-mentioned demonstration that my fellow Vietnam-era veterans looked a little stooped in the shoulders and, some, were still struggling to keep their remembrances of the horrors of war at bay every day. And those were the guys (mainly) who “made it.” A lot of our brothers, as John Prine’s song Sam Stone tells did not, one way or the other. Drugs, as in Stone’s case, medical problems, mental problems, Agent Orange or whatever other color might come up, you name it, the pathologies are all there. That is why I say I am always just a little bit more comfortable, despite any political or tactical disagreements, when I participate in anti-war actions with my fellow veterans. And to just make that clear for this generation of Iraq and Afghanistan veterans this is what we fight for- Obama- Immediate, Unconditional Withdrawal Of All U.S./Allied Troops From Afghanistan And Iraq!
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Sam Stone
©John Prine
Sam Stone came home,
To his 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 knee.
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.
Chorus:
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.
Mmm....
Sam Stone's welcome home
Didn't last too long.
He went to work when he'd spent his last dime
And Sammy took to stealing
When he got that empty feeling
For a hundred dollar habit without overtime.
And the gold rolled 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...
Repeat Chorus:
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
And 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 heroes' hill.
Repeat Chorus
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