A Rumblin’ in the Land Tom Paxton (Ft. Tom Paxton)

I can hear the rumblin’ river as it rushes underground;
I can hear the breakers crashing; I can hear the breakers pound
I can stand beneath the waterfall and shout with all my might
I can hear a thousand voices making ready for a fight

I can ride through Colorado in a semi-trailer cab;
I can hang around the truck stops and hear them joke and gab
I can hear them tellin’ stories of the lives that they must lead
As they wonder how they’ll make it with so many mouths to feed

I can see the little hobo as he shuffles down the street;
I can hear him in the diner as he bums a bite to eat
For ten years he stoked the furnace ‘til the factory whistle blowed
Got laid off by automation boys and it put him on the road

And I met another fellow as I wandered all about
He was mining down at Heyser till his union sold him out
Yes, they worked him in the coalmines till his back and arms were sore
Then they put him on the blacklist boys and he can’t go back no more

I can see the sharecrop farmer as he wipes his sweaty brow
He can see the crop is failing but it ain’t his anyhow
I can see the dust cloud swirling on his played-outfarmin' land--
See him hunker down, and let it trickle through his hand

I met a fine young negro lad about seventeen or so;
He didn’t like those southern jails but he felt that he had to go
Saying, “Mom and dad were Negros and my son will be one too
And I guess it’s up to me because we’ve given up on you.”