Pastures Of Plenty

It's a mighty hard row that
My poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled
That hot dusty road
Out of the dust bowl and westward we rolled
Your desert was hot and
Your mountains were cold

I've worked in your orchards
Of peaches and prunes
I've slept on the ground in
The light of your moon
On the edge of your city
You've seen us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind

California, Arizona, I make all your crops
Then north up to Oregon to gather your hogs
Pull the beets from your ground
Cut the grapes from your vine
To set on your table your light
Sparkling wine green pastures of plenty from
Dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where
The water runs down
Every state in this union
Us migrants have been
We'll work in your fight and
We'll fight 'til we win

Well, it's always we ramble that river and I
All along your green valley I'll
Work 'til I die
My land I'll defend with my life if need be
'Cause my pastures of plenty
Must always be free