Pastures Of Plenty Mighty Good Road

It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled a hot, dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl westward we rolled
Your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold

I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
On the edge of your cities you'll see us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind

California, Arizona, I make all your crops
North up to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
To set on the table your light, sparkling wine

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
We'll work in this fight and we'll fight 'til we win

It's always we rambled, that river and I
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
My land I'll defend with my life if it be
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free
My pastures of plenty must always be free
My pastures of plenty must always be free