Christmas in prison eftir 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 dont dream
Her names on my tongue
And her bloods in my stream.

Chorus:
Wait awhile eternity
Old mother natures got nothing on me
Come to me
Run to me
Come to me, now
Were rolling
My sweetheart
Were 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 shes sweeter than saccharine
At a drug store sale.

Chorus:

The search light in the big yard
Swings round with the gun
And spotlights the snowflakes
Like the dust in the sun
Its christmas in prison
Therell be music tonight
Ill probably get homesick
I love you. goodnight.