Pastures of Plenty
by Woody Guthrie
It’s a mighty hard road that these poor hands have hoed
It’s poor feet have wandered a hot dusty road
Out of the Dust Bowl and westward we rolled
Your deserts was hot and your mountains was cold
I’ve worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
Slept on the ground ‘neath the light of the moon
At the edge of your cities you‘ll see us and then
We come with the dust and we’re gone with the wind
California, Arizona I’ve worked all your crops
Up north to Oregon to gather your hops
Pick the beets from your ground, pick the grapes from your vine
Thcn put on your table your bright, 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 migrants have been
And we’ll work in this fight and we’ll fight till we win
Well, it’s always I’ve rambled, this river and I
Through this green valley I will work till I die
This land I’ll defend with my life if it be
For these pastures of plenty must always be free
This land I’ll defend with my life if it be
For these pastures of plenty must always be free
This song appears on Tom Chapin's Doing Our Job CD.
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