Name: TB cover- John prine Sam stone by Captain Fr33
Duration: 3 min 40 s
Description: The story of a soldiers addiction-cover of John Prine’s “Sam Stone”

The story of a soldiers addiction-cover of John Prine’s “Sam Stone”

TB cover- John prine Sam stone

A good boy

Twas the night before bama

Remember Remember the 5th of November

A retelling of the Earthquake Two Point Won Game between LSU and Alabama

Saban And the Nat

Hypocrite

Just a little limerick about a Garage that eats people

The Garage

A traditional parting song, in a lullabye style, accapella

The Parting Glass

Verdun, Verdun

To the tune of Johnny Comes Marching Home Again 


Verdun, Verdun 

A million shells came falling down 
Verdun Verdun
Foul craters opened in the ground 
Verdun Verdun 
A never ending metal rain,
That wracks your nerves and shakes your brain,
And they just keep falling down,
All around, Til they drive, you insane 
Boom boom boom boom
Boom boom boom boom

They say we have to take the ground,
Verdun, Verdun,
And seize that sleepy hilltop town,
Verdun, Verdun,
The bloody work is never done,
Between the Frenchman and the hun 
And the shells keep falling down, 
All around, as your comrades are slain 
Boom boom boom boom 
Doom doom doom doom

We gain and lose it once again 
Verdun, Verdun,
Each time is grinding countless men,
Achtung, Achtung,
Will this damned battle ever cease 
The dead in pieces rest in peace 
And the shells keep falling down,
As we march, up the hill, once again ,
Boom boom boom boom
Doom doom doom doom

A shell comes down and death flies out,
Verdun, Verdun,
Guts strewn like garland all about,
I'm done, i'm done,
I leave four children and a wife,
For bits of ground they've spent my life,
And the shells keep falling down,
All around, until nothing, remains
Doom doom doom doom,
Doom doom doom doom

Almost 

His name was Mediocrates,
His flesh is long since rotten,
You'll find him in no history book,
His name and bones forgotten,

By all but me, but then, you see,
Back then they would remember,
For Mediocrates, 
Was a perennial contender,

In every game you'd hear his name,
Among the final field,
But vanquished every single time,
When champions stood, he'd kneel,

Some victors' names, they'd stake their claims,
Then be gone, like a ghost,
But Mediocrates was ALWAYS there, 
Of those that won...almost,

His fans? they'd always clap their hands,
Be there and feel the thrill,
But for that shout of Victory, 
In their throats always stilled,

To run the race, fall on your face,
A hundred times kiss ground,
Is less than to have run but once,
If ONCE, you wore the crown,

For once you've gained the mountaintop,
The only way is,
Down 

For a while you may linger,
On the ledge with clutching fingers,
And mundane or most spectacular,
your fall,

But Mediocrates, his fans,
Mere footnotes, measly also-rans,
They never got to feel that fall,
At all,

Champs may fall from top to bottom,
But the rings, oh they've still got 'em,
That sweet fleeting moment,
None can take away,

And though losses, now, we've counted,
That mount HAS BEEN surmounted,
Scars will heal and we'll,
Be BACK up there someday,

which is more than Mediocrates can say,

Lord Tennyson once said, (I've read),
Though not of games of ball,
"Tis better to have loved, and lost,
Than never loved at all."

So I take heart, a Tiger fan, 
A Tiger fan am I,
And In my recent memory,
We held that trophy high,

Not some distant, dusty banner,
Half forgotten in a hall,
Or Mediocrates's trophy,
Which was never won at all,

This year may not be ours, true,
Might be beaten blue and black,
But at least we've got the chops,
To tell the mountaintop,
"We're Back."

TB cover- John prine Sam stone

Captain Fr33

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