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Pastures of Plenty
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Ramblin' Jack Elliott
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1
It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
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My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
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Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
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And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold
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I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
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I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
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On the edge of the city you'll see us and then
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We come with the dust and we go with the wind
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California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
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Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
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Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
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To set on your table your light sparkling wine
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Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
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From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
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Every state in the Union us migrants have been
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We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win
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It's always we rambled, that river and I
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All along your green valley, I will work till I die
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My land I'll defend with my life if need be
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Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free
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