Key: C major
Intro 1
E
Verse 1
that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet has traveled
a hot dusty road
Out of your dust bowl
and westward we roll
Your desert was hot
and your mountains was cold
I've worked in your orchards
of peaches and prunes
Slept on the ground
in the light of your moon
On the edge of your city
you'll see us and then
We come with the dust,
and we're gone with the wind
California, Arizona, make all your crops
Well, it's north up to Oregon
to gather your hops
Take the beets from your ground,
cut the grapes from your vine
Do sit on your table
your light sparkling wine
Well if always we ramble that river and I
All along your green valleys
I'll work till I die
My land I'll defend with my life if need be
My pastures of plenty
must always be free
It's a mighty hard road
that my poor head's half old.
My four feet has traveled
a hot, dusty road.
Out of your dust bowl
and westward we roll.
Your desert was hot
you
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TunerE A D G B E
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