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User / www78 / The Caboose
Wayne Hsieh / 19,069 items
g hWayne Hsieh Some Rights Reserved
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/
And 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 it be/
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free.
Cannery Row, Monterey, California
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Dates
  • Taken: Jan 1, 2018
  • Uploaded: Mar 20, 2018
  • Updated: Mar 25, 2018
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