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.
The searchlight in the big yard
Swings 'round with the gun
And spotlights the snowflakes
Like dust in the sun.
It's Christmas in prison.
There'll be music tonight.
I'll probably get homesick.
I love you. Good night.
|