Pastures of plenty
Its a mighty gard road that my poor hands have hoed My poor feet have traveled one hot, dusty road Out of your dust bowl and westward we roll And your deserts was hot and your mountains was cold I have worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes I've slept on the ground in the light of your moon On the edge of the city, you will see us and then We came with the dust and we go with the wind California, Arizona, we make all your crops Then its up north to Oregon to gather your hops Dig the beets from your ground, pick the grapes from your vine To place on your table, your light sparkling wine Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down Every state in this union, us migrates has been We come with the dust, and we're gone with the wind Well its always we ramble this river and I All your green valleys I'll work till I die My land I'll defend with my life need it be For my pastures of plenty, must always be free Yes my pastures of plenty, must always be free