My driftin' memory goes back to the spring of '43
When I was just a child in momma's arms
My daddy plowed the ground and promised someday we would leave
This run-down mortgaged Oklahoma farm
Then one night I heard my daddy sayin' to my momma
That he'd finally saved enough to go
California was his dream, a paradise, for he had seen
Pictures in magazines that told him so

California cotton fields
Where labor camps were filled with weary men with broken dreams
California cotton fields
As close to wealth as daddy ever came

Nearly everything we had was sold or left behind
From my daddy's plow to the soup that momma canned
Some folks came to say farewell or see what all we had to sell