Tom: D
Introdução:
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It's a long hard row that my poor hands has hoed
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My poor feet have traveled a hot, dusty road
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Out of your Dust Bowl and westward we rolled
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And your deserts was hot and your mountain were cold
verse 2
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California and Arizona, I worked all your crops
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And its North up to Oregon to gather harvest your hops
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Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
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To set on your table your light, sparkling wine
verse 3
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I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
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Slept on the ground in the light of your moon
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On the edge of the city you'll see us and then
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We come with the dust and we go with the wind
verse 4
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Well, it's always we rambled, that river and I
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All along your green valley, I will work till I die
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My land I'll defend with my life if it be
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'Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free
verse 5
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Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
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From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
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Every state in this Union us migrants have been
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We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win