Pastures of Plenty

Notation: legacy / protest song
PDF Files: Woody Guthrie

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Transcription: by Darryl D. Bush  
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Lyrics:


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 and 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 the city you'll see us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind.

California, Arizona, I harvest your crops.
Well, its 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 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 till 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 need be
'Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free.

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