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Woody Guthrie - Pastures Of Plenty Lyrics

  • by Woody Guthrie
  • It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
  • My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
  • Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
  • And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold
  • I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
  • I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
  • On the edge of the city you'll see us and then
  • We come with the dust and we go with the wind
  • California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
  • Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
  • Dig 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 waters run down
  • Every state in the Union us migrants have been
  • We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win
  • It's always we rambled, that river and I
  • All along your green valley, I will work till I die
  • My land I'll defend with my life if need be
  • Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free
  • Copyright Ludlow Music, Inc.
  • @America @patriotic @work
  • recorded on Woody's Greatest Songs
  • filename[ PASTPLEN
  • SF

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