About the song
“Sam Stone” by John Prine is a poignant folk song that delves into the struggles of a Vietnam War veteran returning home with addiction and trauma. Released in 1971 as part of Prine’s self-titled debut album, this song stands as a powerful commentary on the impact of war on individuals and families.
Written solely by John Prine, “Sam Stone” showcases his ability to tackle complex and sensitive subjects with empathy and insight. The song’s stark lyrics and melancholic melody paint a vivid portrait of Sam Stone, a war hero who returns home only to battle with addiction and emotional scars.
Although “Sam Stone” did not achieve significant commercial success, it garnered critical acclaim for its honesty and emotional depth. It has since become one of Prine’s most revered songs, earning a place as a classic of the folk genre.
In addition to its critical acclaim, “Sam Stone” has been covered by various artists and has been featured in films and television shows, further solidifying its status as a timeless anthem of resilience and compassion.
John Prine’s masterful rendition of “Sam Stone” remains a testament to his talent as a songwriter and his ability to shine a light on the human condition with grace and empathy.
Video
Lyrics
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 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, mmhmm
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
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, mmhmm
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 GI 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, mmhmm