Tom: C
C
Am
It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
C
Am
My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
C
Am
Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
C
Am
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold
Verse 2
C
Am
California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
C
Am
Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
C
Am
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
C
Am
To set on your table your light sparkling wine
Verse 3
C
Am
I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
C
Am
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
C
Am
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
C
Am
We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win
Verse 4
C
Am
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
C
Am
I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
C
Am
Wherever your crops are, I'll lend you my hand
C
Am
I'll ramble all over your green growing land
Verse 5
C
Am
Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
C
Am
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
C
Am
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
C
Am
We come with the dust and we go with the wind
Verse 6
C
Am
It's always we rambled, that river and I
C
Am
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
C
Am
This land I'll defend with my life if need be
C
Am
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free