Tom: D major•
Verse 1
Bm
It's a mighty hard row that my
D
Bm
D
poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled
a hot dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl and
westward we rolled
And your deserts were hot and
Bm
your mountain was cold
Verse 2
D
I worked in your orchards of
Bm
D
peaches and prunes
Slept on the ground in
the light of your moon
On the edge of the city
you'll see us and then
We come with the dust and we
D
Verse 3
California and Arizona,
I make all your crops
And 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
Bm
D
sparkling wine
Verse 4
D
Green pastures of plenty from
dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam
where the waters run down
Every state in this Union us
migrants have been
A
We'll work in this fight and
Bm
D
we'll fight till we win
Verse 5
D
Well, 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
A
D
must always be free
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