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• Artiste: Brothers Four (The)
• Titre: Pastures Of Plenty
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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 Blue deserts so hot and your mountains so cold I've wandered all over your green growing land Where ever your crops are I've lent you my hands On the edge of your cities, you'll see me and then I come with the dust and I'm gone with the wind California, Arizona, I'd worked on your crops the North up to Washington to gather your hops I got beets from your ground I cut grapes from your vines To sat on our table's and light sparkling wine Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground From the grand Coulee Dam where the water runs down Every state of this Union us migrants have been We come with the dust and we're gone,with the wind We come with the dust and we're gone,with the wind And we're gone.. with the wind...