Tom: C# minor•
Verse 1
C#m
It's a mighty hard road
that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet has traveled
E
B
E
a hard, dusty road
C#m
Out of your dust bowl
and westward we rode
Your deserts was hot
B
A
C#m
an d your mountains was cold
I've worked in your orchards
E
B
C#m
of peaches and prunes
C#m
by the light of your moon
E
C#m
B
At the edge of your cit ies,
E
C#m
you will see us and then
We come with the dust
E
B
C#m
and we're gone with the wind
B
E
C#m
I made all your crops
B
E
And it's north up to Oregon
C#m
to harvest your hops
E
pick the beets from your ground,
B
C#m
pick the grapes from your vines,
G#m
C#m
E
B
C#m
your light sparkling wine.
E
It's green pastures of plenty
B
C#m
from dry desert ground
E
From the Grand Coulee Dam
C#m
where the waters run down
E
Every state in this union
B
C#m
of migrants has been
E
And we'll work in this fight,
B
C#m
and we'll fight until we win
B
C#m
And it's always we've rambled
E
B
C#m
this river an d I
E
All along your green valleys
B
C#m
I will work until I die
E
And this land I'll defend with
E
Oh, my pastures of plenty
Outro 1
C#m
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