Having blown up their season, and with lots of time on their hands, the leaders of the National Hockey League, and the National Hockey League Players Association ought to find some old tapes of folk singer John Prine and replay the odd lyrics to a song called Dear Abby.

Dear Abby, Dear Abby You won't believe this
We make piles of money, but something's amiss
We play games for a living, and we're all filthy rich
Yet we've shut down the business, and can't find our niche.
Signed, Rich and Clueless.

Spoiled rotten, spoiled rotten, You have no complaint. You are what you are
and you ain't what you ain't. So listen up buster and listen up good, stop
wishin' for bad luck and knockin' on wood.

Signed, Dear Abby.
read the whole article here

SCATTER MY ASHES
© Robert Wynne

WELL I DROVE THROUGH THE GRAVE YARD
ON A SATURDAY NIGHT
AND I WATCHED
ALL THE LEAVE’S BLOWIN ROUND

IT WAS THEN THAT SOMETHING
OCCURED TO ME
DON’T PUT ME
IN A HOLE IN THE GROUND

OH SCATTER MY ASHES
FROM A SLOW MOVING TRAIN
AS IT PASSES BY BLUEBERRY HILL
PLAY ME SOME GOODMAN
AND MAYBE SOME CASH
AND DRINK TILL YOU’VE
ALL HAD YOUR FILL

THEN PLAY SOME MCDERMOTT
AND THEN SOME MCCAIN
AND SING TILL YOU ALL FEEL FINE
THEN A PRAYER TO ST. PETER
WOULD BE JUST THE THING
THEN MAYBE A LITTLE JOHN PRINE

IN MY LIFE AND IN DEATH
I WILL FEEL NO PAIN
WHEN THE GOOD LORD
CALLS OUT MY NAME

SAY A SMALL PRAYER
THAT I’LL MAKE IT UP THERE
THEN CARRY ME ON TO
THAT TRAIN

OH SCATTER MY ASHES
FROM A SLOW MOVING TRAIN
AS IT PASSES BY BLUEBERRY HILL
PLAY ME SOME GOODMAN
AND MAYBE SOME CASH
AND DRINK TILL YOU’VE
ALL HAD YOUR FILL

THEN PLAY SOME Bob Dylan
AND THEN SOME Tom Waits
AND SING TILL YOU ALL FEEL FINE
THEN A PRAYER TO ST. PETER
WOULD BE JUST THE THING
THEN end it with A LITTLE JOHN PRINE


JOHN PRINE CONCERT REVIEW - OF EDINBURGH SCOTLAND'S QUEEN'S HALL, 24th June, 2004 ©Kevin Moug
Dear Abby, Dear Abby
Don't that beat it all
I've just seen John Prine
Down at the Queen's Hall
There's something I have to get off of my chest
Of singer / songwriters John Prine is the best
Signed Ecstatic

Ecstatic, Ecstatic
Your thinkin's too slow
Try telling us something that we didn't know
Well Kris may be handsome and Dylan is fine
But the best of them all is the one called John Prine

Dear Abby, Dear Abby
He sang 'Chain of Sorrow'
At the concert last night
In old Edinboro
His voice may be gruff and his voice may be deep
But his songs are the kind that make growin' men weep
Signed The Sizzler

O Sizzler, O Sizzler
Your thinkin's too slow
Try telling us something that we didn't know
If anyone doubts you then make no mistake
They'll be sittin' at the bottom of the Bottomless Lake

Dear Abby, Dear Abby
It sure makes me gladder
To hear John Prine sing
'The happy Enchilada'
You don't think it's maybe goin' too far
To think that John Prine is the world's greatest star
Signed Sam Stoner

Sam Stoner, Sam Stoner
Now don't get me wrong
But the drugs that you're takin'
May just be too strong
Get out of the daylight, get into your bed
Lay off of the cocaine, try Benelyin instead

Signed Dear Abby

GRAND PA WAS A DRINKER- ©Thomas Cook Jr.
  Whenever I get in a writers slump,I turn To a John Prine melody to try and snap out of it, here's one such drill. Thanks for the loan!
Grand pa was a drinker, But he was a damn good man
Whenever someone needed something, He'd lend a helping hand
Well he use to drive a fuel truck, And he'd take me with him too
Stealing watermelons, Gettin' cow shit on our boots

Grand pa was a drinker, He drank vodka, beer and wine
If he drank too much last night, I'd drive him to the Ol' state line
But his liver finally screamed one day "I can't take it anymore"
He'd won many a battle, But liquor won the war

Now my grand ma was a line cook, At the big top cafe
When the driving was too dangerous, That's where I'd go and stay
Well her boss would give me money, If I'd wash a plate or two
Then me and Grand ma would go to town, If we had nothing else to do

THIS TIME © 2003 Bubby (All rights reserved)  
The following is a poem that was inspired by his songs :Sam Stone and Six o clock news.... It's purely for the love of it and there is nothing done for profit...I hope you enjoy

" There's a hole in Daddy's arm where all the money goes"

Sometimes late in evenings song where the train runs through tomorrow
He rides the pain of circumstance looking out old windows of sorrow
He fights the same old dream on a treadmill in his soul 
Losing his mind in a golden rush when the heroin gains control
Broken needles and stitched up mind Silver spoons over heated flame
Bringing to home the memories In a place that knows his name 
this time the war is over this time he buries the dead
This time he roll's like thunder from the feelings that flow through his head...
Old soldiers sometimes mend others just lose their will
'cause midnight takes no prisoners and I guess it never will..

"Come on Baby...spend the night with me"
Quotations are from John Prines' songs: "Sam Stone" and "Six o'clock News"

DEAR ABBY LOST VERSE   © D Drake
Lost verse that you seem the most likely to appreciate. IS a LITTLE raunchy, though. Obviously, I came up with the idea pre-Viagra!) Always thought Mr. Prine might get a kick out of it but don't know how to get it to him. Thanks for the chance to "express myself."
Dear Abby, Dear Abby, 
My libido's been canned.
My condom supply now exceeds the demand. 
Erectile dysfunction's my biggest complaint. 
Where my dick used to point 
Nowadays it just cain't! 
Signed
 -- Just 90

Just 90, Just 90, 
Don't be such a boor, 
At your age a hard on could lead to death's door. 
If your pencil has finally lost all its lead, 
Could be time you just sharpened 
That tongue in your head. 
Signed 
-- Dear Abby

MY CANADIAN HOME   ©Leonard Hogg
(sung to the tune of Mexican Home tune) 

My God I swore it's so cold outside
You could freeze in the living room
The only shine is from the northern lights
I'm trying to stay warm with my husky dogs
While eating cold cold beans
And my beer can is frozen to my hand

Chorus
Honey dear
Your old man's here
Freezing off his butt
Waiting for
Your big warm hugs
With all your thermal stuff
Hey I feel all wet and warm
Did the dog pee on my foot
Baby dear let's run away
From my Canadian home.

  with an apology to Mr. Prine - Leonard Hogg AKA the old hippie

COUNTRY GIRLS LAMENT  ©Declan Forde

Somedays sometimes her world just seems
Like a dried bouquet of broken dreams
Pressed between the pages of her life.
Staring through a barroom mirror
A strangers eyes gaze into hers
As lonely as a tomcat in the night.

(chorus)
At heart she's still a country girl
Dreaming of a rhinestone world
And believing in seizing every chance
For happiness with a man who'll care
Enough for her to want to share
Honest love and true romance.

She won a heart and lost her pride
When she found that she was second prize
And she cried all night with Patsy Cline.
Her gospels now are hurting songs
Of loves sweet dreams gone all wrong
From Tammy Wynette to ol' John Prine.
(chorus)

She's cradled in some stranger's arms
Drunk on his whiskey and his charms,
Dog-tired but he's the cat that got the cream;
Another Saturday night one night stand
With a two-bit singer in a country band
In a palace raining silver dollar queens.
(chorus)

I USED TO BE A HIPPIE NOW , SWEET JESUS I'M A GEEK!  © Maggie S 

Went to work this morning. It's hump day in the week.
Parked my brand new Saturn in the ramp across the street.
Put my cell phone in the holster, strapped to my left hip,
Grabbed my notebook laptop and my lunch with the tofu dip.
Dressed up my best "navy blue", bought at "Corporate" in the mall.
It helps cover up my tattoos of "Peace" and "Do You Wanna Ball?"

Life can send you way down low, or living on easy street.
I used to be a Hippie, NOW, Sweet Jesus, I'm a Geek!

I used to live for Fridays. Buy myself a little smoke.
Party for days in the micro bus. Thought life was "Just a joke".
Now, I LIVE for "dress down" Friday, Helps the stress of the workplace hurt.
Trade in my suit for Khaki's, wear a tie with my Star Trek shirt.


Life can send you way down low, or living on easy street.
I used to be a Hippie, NOW, Sweet Jesus, I'm a Geek!

Use to camp out in the concert Ticket line for days without regret.
Now I buy those tickets with my Mastercard over the inter-net.
I've been to ALL the concerts -Johnny Cash to the Rolling Stones.
Now I burn CD's on my Gateway. Check the interest on my student loans!

What the hell happened to me? (spoken)
I must be caught in the Matrix.

Life can send you way down low, or living on easy street.
I used to be a Hippie, NOW, Sweet Jesus, I'm a Geek!

I owned a flower-powered micro-bus. I had peace and love galore.
Now my Saturn takes two spaces in the lot. "Good Lord, Don't ding the door."
I've run all over this sweet land, travelin' and singing the blues.
Now the only running I do today is in my 100 dollar Nike shoes.

Beam me up Scottie! Please! (spoken)
When is the Mothership coming for me?

Life can send you way down low, or living on easy street.
I used to be a Hippie, NOW, Sweet Jesus, I'm a Geek!

Spaced out, turned on, dropped out. I was cool as cool could be.
Sat down one day in a protest march, ended up with a PHD.
Used to live on "spare change". Only worked for a day or so.
I ain't saying that life's a fair thing, I just promoted to CEO!

Way up on the corporate ladder, a weird way to get high!

Life can send you way down low, or living on easy street.
I used to be a Hippie, NOW, Sweet Jesus, I'm a Geek!

I used to play in a Rock n' Roll Band, Lead guitar and back up vocals.
Now my hearings shot and I work a lot, Can't see without bifocals!
My shrink screams "It's midlife crisis. Stop work working overtime!
Take a couple of vacation days, Go listen to Johnny Prine."

Guess I'd better go to those Geeks Anonymous Meetings!

Life can send you way down low, or living on easy street.
I used to be a Hippie, NOW, Sweet Jesus, I'm a Geek!

I used to be a Hippie, NOW, Sweet Jesus, I'm a Geek!

I used to be a Hippie, NOW, Sweet Jesus, I'm a Geek!

John Prine (To the tune of Jolene) © Clinton Small, Montgomery, Mid Wales.

chorus
John Prine, John Prine, John Prine, John Prine,
You keep singing songs that make us smile.

You talk about the truth of life
The heartbreak and the sacrifice,
But you always seem to get it right
John Prine.

It seems to me you seem to know
Just how it is that our lives go
And you sing about it beautifully
John Prine.

chorus

So carry on and sing your songs
'Bout truth and love and right and wrong,
We'll always be here listening
John Prine.

The finest voice and clear guitar
You've always been the brightest star
And we're all grateful to you, thanks,
John Prine.

chorus

I had a couple of lines kicking around in my head and I kinda wrote some of them down....I had to mention John Prine

49/30 (that's the title eh) ©7/14/2002 Leonard Hogg  aka Old Hippie

Well I knew your weren't happy honey
Are you shy to show me off to all your friends
You ask me about my job and the money
And you wonder why I don't drive a Benz
I still get stoned almost every Friday night
Sunday morning you may find me with a beer
All my longhaired buddies say I'm alright
That look in your eyes is starting to disappear.

Chorus
Well I'm an old hippie, I ain't no yuppie
I'm a lazy old dog, not a young puppy
I can't trade in my used Ford
To be the chairman of the board
Yes I'm an old hippie
And I like life this way.

Well please don't lend an ear to your mother
Pay no heed to your rich twisted sister
Hey I won't tell what I think of your brother
Only an asshole demands to be called mister
I dig steel guitars and a John Prine story
I like my faded Levis and my old work boots
Feed me on KFC not chicken cacciatore
And you'll always find me in the grass roots.

New Chorus
Well I'm an old hippie, I ain't no yuppie
I'm a lazy old dog, not a young puppy
Yeah I'm stuck in my lifestyle
I dream of the 60's once in a while
Yes I'm an old hippie
And I like life this way.

Well you know I'll never try to change you
But for you I just could transmute a little
The first time I met you is was like a deja vu
And that time I couldn't be noncommittal
I'll take all my old records to the music shop
Quit growing pot and cache my stash
Must be the way you wear that tight tank top
I hope you love this boy who's white trash.

Spoken:
Hell, I'll even paint my pick-up truck.

New Chorus
Well I'm an old hippie, I ain't no yuppie
I'm a lazy old dog, not a young puppy
No I wasn't at Woodstock
I listen to folk music, not acid rock
Yes I'm and old hippie
And I like life this way
Yeah I really dig being this way.

Prine In Wonderland by Dave Cornelius
adapted from 'Through The Looking Glass' by Lewis Carroll'
The time has come the Walrus said,
To speak of many things.
Of shoes and sacks and sealing wax,
Of cabbages and kings.
How John as entertained us,
with every song he sings.
But Lewis Carroll got it wrong,
cause buffaloes have wings.

PAYBACK © Peter Varga
(sung to the tune of Dear Abby)

Bin Laden bin laden How deep can you Dig !
A matter of days now you Filthy Scum Pig !!
Bin Laden bin laden , can count on one Hand
The number of Taliban left in the Land !
Their ........Days............Are Numbered !

Bin Laden bin laden and Your days are Too !
Just thinking of New York and Cowards like You !
Innocent Thousands you Trashed without care ,
I noticed Your countrymen shaving their Hair !
BYE........BYE...........Al Quaida !

Bin Laden bin laden the Girls dropped their Veils ,
Mothers and daughters now Painting their Nails !
Beautiful Women escaping Your Fate ,
GO FLY A KITE NOW you Filthy Ingrate !
PAY.............BACK................HAS STARTED !!!!!!!!!
p.v

BONE APPETIT  (for John and Fiona)
Inspired by the recent hip replacement surgery of Johns
© Frank Galligan. Channel 9TV. Northern Ireland
(Sung to the tune of "I Ain't Hurtin Nobody"

I'm a walkin' down the street
Like Mister Magoo
Got a hip in my pocket
'Cos I'm thinkin' of you
I ain't seein' nobody
I ain't seein' no one

There's three hundred ribs
In the Chinese takaway
They're waitin' to fry
They won't never be free
Barbecuin' somebody
Barbecuin' someone

Six million seven hundred thousand
and thirty three Prine fans
You think someone could take the time
to lie down
and listen to the creak of my bones

It's a bitch in Indiana
When it's twelve below
Saw my little Richard wither
in a blast of a Kokomo snow
It wasn't lovin' nobody
It wasn't lovin' no one

There's Irish layin' concrete
and concrete layin' stiffs
saw doctors creating
people's hips and shit
It was hurtin' this body
It was hurtin this one

Perfectly crafted popular plastic never hits the wrong rhyme
You'd think my surgeon could get my AMEX number right the first time

She's leanin' on her left leg
Just waitin' for news
My galls been prayin'
To Ole Lucky Larue
She's still lovin' somebody
She's still lovin' someone

I used to limp in Chicago
Where the cold wind blows
I delivered more dead bones
Dan dem dry bones done know
I wasn't hurtin' nobody
I wasn't hurtin no one

You can fool some of the people part of the time 
When you rock and roll some
Fifty million one legged vets
can't be all wrong

He didn't write a last verse
As a general rule
But he knew for damn fact
It was hip to be cool
He was a somebody...Hurtin' 
Nobody....Just one.

Poem for John Prine  ©2001 Scott Wannaberg

when the hearing of the world claims its gone to sleep forever
when the music supposedly has gone underground without a forwarding address
a guitar chord knocks down all fear
and a voice of empathy yodels its way
through the clouds of doubt
John Prine is a noun, he helps the planet
to bop, his stories and people are
towns where you can find a way to
let your bones dance and the bewildering
impenetrable world is made
accessible through love...

Happy Birthday, JP!  (or, My relationship with John)   ©10/10/2000 K. Fischer

Happy Birthday, John!
They announced it on NPR,
and I had to write a poem
to remind you who you are.

On October Tenth,
Nineteen forty six
a baby boy was born
and man was he a kick!

Then I can't say what happened
as I was not yet here,
but he was living life with music
as did pass the next 19 years.

One day in September
Nineteen sixty five
a baby girl was born
and she sure did wanna jive.

So late into
the next 14 years or so
she rummaged through
her dad's LP collection.
She discovered Sweet Revenge,
in immaculate condition.

It was found between Paul and Art
and that wild Vanilla Fudge,
complete with an Nice Price Sticker
amid a bunch of classical drudge.

What an introduction!
John all laid back.
My attention was entirely focused.
Was that convertible a Cadillac?

That LP went round and round
and then it was all over.
Now I own the anthology,
read from cover to cover.

Every CD as well (almost).
And after this November, I can say
I've seen you play (4 times!)
and that is worth a toast!

BEER  ©Maryellen R.
If I have one beer I'll be just fine
If I have two I'll probably have nine
In the morning I'll say "Why'd I do that?"
I'll find my coat but never my hat
I'll take two aspirins and they'll get stuck on my tongue
I'll choke and gag and wish I were a nun
The day will proceed, my headache recede
I'll say never again and then I'll bump into some old friends
They'll say "Let's have a beer!"
I'll refuse and hem and ha and be half drunk by nightfall
John Prine calls this a German Afternoon
Well, I'm not German but I probably will be soon
Cause I love a cold beer and a cold beer loves me
And I'll be fine as long as I stick to just three
Cause three's the magic number for me
Cools off the insides, soothes and relaxes
And I wake up in the morning without my head in traction
So the moral of this story is, of course, everything in moderation
That is until you run into a special celebration
(Like a John Prine concert, or the Philly Folk Fest, or it's Wednesday, or you sneezed twice in a row, or you sent your poem to the Prine Shrine. Hey I'm getting thirsty - I gotta go now!)

Dear Abby HOT NEW RELEASE -(CW's version) ©CWstudios

Dear Reeda Dear Reeda 
It's been far too long 
I've been fishing for brook trout 
And tryin' to write songs 
My friends try and sell me 
on techno-pop crap 
If-I hear one more bad remake 
I think I will snap 
   Signed...Authentic.

(chorus)
Authentic, authentic,
You have no complaint 
We can't all be like JP 
You can't be no saint 
So listen up partner and listen up well 
Both brook trout and pop songs Have a very strong smell

Dear JP, Dear JP,
My tires all leak 
My wife rides my clutch 
'makes my ball-bearings squeak 
Every side-street I drive down 
Is a Hospital zone 
I need a new car 
Won't you give me a loan 
Signed..Old Lemon

Jack Lemon Jack lemon, 
You have no complaint 
Though your doors are all rusty 
And you could sure use some paint 
Just listen to old John now 
And don't ever fear 
Patch your holes up with bondo 
And let's go for a beer 
Signed John prine....

How's that folks! Reeda and JP,I hope it was Ok that I used your names... Respectfully.......CW

The Georgia Pacific © Will Clark
The weary old road that I ride every mornin,
It travels the path of a ghost I once knew.
A land with a forest and streams unmolested,
By men who love concrete and plastic palm trees.

Oh Joey can ya buy me a place to go fishin??????
Said sorry my friend but the dealin is done.
The land that you wandered with father and brother....
The Georgia Pacific has sold it away.

The highway I ride past the strangers each mornin,
It catches a glimpse of some other mans dream....
Of asphalt and street lights and sirens at midnight,
That carry me back to a ghost that grows thin.

Oh Joey can ya buy me a place to go fishin??????
Said sorry my friend but the dealin is done.
The land that you wandered with father and brother....
The Georgia Pacific has sold it away.

The withered cut woodland stands guard on the swampland.
The murky deep water stands guard on the ground.
But nobody's watchin the path of the young men,
Who wander the highway the woods cannot hide.

Oh Joey can ya buy me a place to go fishin??????
Said sorry my friend but the dealin is done.
The land that you wandered with father and brother....
The Georgia Pacific has sold it away.

Merry Christmas Everybody. ©Dave Cornelius 2000

Twas the Night before Christmas and all through the chat.
Not a creature was stirring, not even a cat.
The chat folks were snuggled up in bed.
Listening to Prine, Guthrie, Seeger, and the Dead.
Dreaming good thoughts of peace and of love,
of Woodstock and Green Peace and the sign of the dove.
We had something special once years ago,
it hasn't turned out like we planned it though.
We still have hatred, hunger, and strife,
and sometimes the unexplained loss of a life.
We must not give up the quest of old,
to bring happiness to a world grown cold.
Remember to love, to respect, and to persevere,
So all may have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

THEY DON'T MAKE 'EM LIKE JOHNNY CASH NO MORE  © 1998 Danny Sullivan

He wears cowboy boots and sequined suits
On the Oprah Winfrey show
And he looks real handsome
In his latest video

Nobody told him fortunes disappear
And fame's a revolving door
And they don't make 'em like Johnny Cash no more
They don't make 'em like Johnny Cash no more
You can't find John Prine in the record store
Hey, who's that guy who just walked through the door
They don't make 'em like Johnny Cash no more

A man's been shot in the parking lot
There's two live camera crews
Recording the action
For the 6 o'clock tv news

Lies can shine like brand new dimes
And streets can look like gold
They can sell you dreams
Till you put your life on hold

And they don't make 'em like Johnny Cash no more
You can't find John Prine in the record store
Hey, who's that guy who just walked through the door
They don't make 'em like Johnny Cash no more
They don't make 'em like Johnny Cash no more

JOHN PRINE IS A FRIEND OF MINE  by ©Jeff Holcomb

(Chorus)
John Prine is a friend of mine
 John Prine is a friend of mine
 I've never even met the man and I'll never call myself a "fan"
 But John Prine is a friend of mine
 
 We sit down in my closet, with all my overalls
 I play his songs all night long, all that I can recall
 Hand me down my walkin cand, its a sin to tell a lie
 Jehosephat his mongrel cat knows John Prine is a friend of mine
 
 (chorus)  
 Dear Abby gives me sound advise, on this I can rely
 Sam Stone reminds me of my dad, sometimes it makes me cry
 We sound so sweet on souveniers, I simply sit and grin
 Sometimes it seems like the bottom is the only place we've been
 
 (chorus)  
 I'm glad you got your sweet revenge it suits you to a tee
 And Bonnie Raitt's not to shabby singin harmony
 A big shot record company man, that's how it was meant to be
 Now don't get hit by lightning or raped by a minority

That's the Way the World Goes Round - the lost verses  by ©Tripp Roy

I climbed up a tree and said I wasn't gonna stop
Til' I finally reached all the way to the top
Then I decided to see if the world was a flop
So I tried to hang upside down
 
When the wind blows the cradles gonna rock
And when the bow breaks I'm a gonna drop
It sure is lonely here at the top
But thats the way that the world goes round

fourth verse
 I was up in California picking my stings
When I asked about John I heard a funny thing
They aint never heard him now aint that stange
Were have they been all this time
 
So I bought myself a ticket didn't waste no time
Headed straight down to the Georgia line
Who needs California if you got John Prine
Thats the way that the world goes round

To You (all)   © Phil  E.

...I was the bootleg bartender in the basement below.
Dry county Kentucky where the words' spoken  slow.
Just learning guitar then-I played my first show
Doin' Prine songs I'd learned From wood-hippie Joe
There was harmony then-In Kentucky girl whail
And the wind in the hollar Would fill up my sail
Sweet singin Kathy Sweet singin Gail
Sweet revenge-sweet revenge Sweet revenge will prevail
Sweet revenge sweet revenge will prevail
                                                  (without fail!).... 

SUNG TO THE TUNE -
by PMS*red and others
this started out at as little ditty from me...
I see now and then that others write their thoughts and wishes in the Dear Abby tune....
so it just made sense to add them here....

(from Dave Devine)
Dear Abby, Dear Abby,
I never thought
That me and Dick Cheney would ever get caught
We were sitting at the White House 
For the briefing you see 
when I stated that Enron meant 'Dick' to me.
Si-igned
So Foolish

(from STEPPENWOLF in the John Prine Chat Room)
Dear Abby Dear Abby
my name is Dan.
I come to this chat room when ever I can
But when ever I log on there's no one around
But I keep on tryin' I feel like a clown
signed
Chatless

(from Peter Keays)
Dear Abby, Dear Abby
Well how shall I know,
When John Prine will next be in Ontario?
I check the shrine daily, but now its been weeks,
Johnny, come visit us Lombardy freaks!
si-igned, Impatient.
 
(from me -PMS*red)
Dear Johnny, Dear Johnny,
You just want to sing,
but we got you involved in this internet thing.
No downers and Kool Aid,
no shrouds on our head.
Yet, we kneel at your Shrine and
You ain't even dead
signed, Just surfing
 
   [I sent John Prine this]
Dear Johnny, Dear Johhny,
You won't believe this:
I got a meatloaf you don't wanna miss,
You're welcome to drop in, you seem like the sort,
for dinner at our house in Davenport....
(One of the Quad Cities that is)
Signed (and I really mean it)....Reeda Buresh

[and ©John Prine answered!]
Dear Reeda, Dear Reeda,
Your Meatloaf's the Best,
If it were a medal -
I'd wear it on my chest
.....Love Johnny Prine

 EXCHANGING PRESENTS  by© Douglas
 
Mary sends me Patsy Cline and John Prine CD's,
I send her the Oxford Book of Garden Verse.
She labours so hard on the farm,
Picking berries and sweet corn.
She is a country girl,
Who grows pink dianthus for John Clare.
The smoothness of Patsy Cline is like Mary's tequila,
With a tang in the tail.
I asked for the John Prine,
My house is stocked with cultural icons.
Mary will be sending me her jam soon.
I am warned to open it over the sink
In case it explodes.
Her photograph explodes inside my head.