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