I’ve learned this from Woody
Here’s how I sing it
Once he told me I sing it better than anybody
This is the way
It’s a mighty hard row my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled hot dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl west-ward we rolled
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold
California, Arizona, I make all your crops
Well, up north to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from the ground, pull the grapes from your vine
To set on your table the light sparkling wine
Well, I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
And I slept down on the ground with the light of your moon
Every state in this Union us migrants has been
Well, we’ll work in this fight and we’ll fight till we win
Green the pastures of plenty from the dry desert ground
From the grand Coulee Dam where your waters run down
Every state in this Union us migrants has been
Well, we come with the dust and we go with the wind
And it’s always we’ve rambled, that river and I
All along your green valleys I’ll work till I die
This land I’ll defend with my life, if it be
’cause my pastures of plenty, they must always be free
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases
Bob Dylan – Mama, You Been on My Mind
Bob Dylan – Floater
Bob Dylan Lyrics – Pastures of Plenty