Pastures of Plenty, by Woody Guthrie

Harmonica, Guitar strumming folk song by Woody Guthrie. The song evokes an image of hard-working, poverty-stricken migrant workers that are possibly bitter, but have a pride in the products of their labor. It seems like Guthrie is singing to the Earth itself. Incidentally, I think that "Pastures of Plenty" would be a great name for a blog.

It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands has hoed;
My poor feet has traveled a hot dusty road;
Out of your dust bowl and westward we rolled;
And your desert was hot and your mountains was cold.

I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes; (migrant workers)
Slept on the ground in the light of your moon; (homeless)
On the edge of your city you'll seen us and then; (apart from civilization)
We come with the dust and we go with the wind. (transience)

California and Arizona I make all your crops;
Then it's 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 that Grand Coulee Dam where the water runs down; (irrigation of land)
Every state in this union us migrants have been;
We work in this fight and we'll fight 'til we win. (pride and persistence)

Well it's always we ramble that river and I; (once again, transience)
All along your green valley I'll work 'til I die;
My land I'll defend with my life if it be; (ownership pride in the land)
'Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free.



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