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Pastures Of Plenty
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Harry Belafonte
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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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Blue deserts so hot and your mountains so cold
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I wandered all over this green growing land
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Where ever your crops are I lend you my hands
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At the edge of your cities, you'll see me and then
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I come with the dust and I'm gone with the wind
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California, arizona, I worked on your crops
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North up to oregon to gather your hops
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I got beets from your ground
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I cut grapes from your vines
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To sat on our table's that light that 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 water runs down
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Every state of this union us migrants have been
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Oh we come with the dust and we're gone, gone,gone with
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The wind
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It's always we rambled that river and I
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All along your green valley's I'd work till I die
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I traveled this road until death lets me be
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Cause pastures of plenty must always be free
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I'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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Edge of your cities you see me and then
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I come with the dust and I'm gone, gone, gone with the
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Wind
Bob Dylan - Pastures of Plenty.m4v
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