Pastures Of Plenty Lyrics

It's a mighty hard road that my poor hands have hoed My poor feet have travelled a hot dusty road Out of your dust bowl and westward we roll Through deserts so hot and your mountains so cold I've wandered all over your green growing land Wherever your crops are I've lent you my hand On the edge of your cities you'll see me and then I come with the dust and I'm gone with the wind California, Arizona, I've worked on your crops Then north up to Oregon to gather your hops Dig beets from your ground, cut grapes from your vine To set on your tables that light spakling wine Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground From the Grand Coulee Dam where the water runs down Every state of this Union us migrants have been We come with the dust and we're gone with the wind It's always we ramble that river and I All along your green valleys I'll work till I die I'll travel this road until death sets me free Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free It's a mighty hard road that my poor hands have hoed My poor feet have travelled a hot dusty road On the edge of your cities you'll see me and then I come with the dust and I'm gone with the wind