[Intro]
Well from Euan McColl we go to another favourite writer of mine. This time an American, his name: Woody Guthrie

[Verse 1]
It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled that long dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowls and Westward we rolled
Your deserts were hot and your mountains was cold

[Verse 2]
I've worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I've slept in the cold heat of the pale silver moon
On the edge of the city you'll see us and then
We come with the dust and we're gone with the wind

[Verse 3]
California, Arizona, I made all your crops
Now it's up North to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from the ground, pluck the grape from your vine
To set on your table that light sparkling wine

[Break]

[Verse 4]
Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters role down
Every state in this Union us migrants have been
We'll stay in this fight and we'll fight until we win
[Verse 5]
It's always we rambled, that river and I
All along your green valley, I'll work till I die
My land I'll defend with my life if it be
My pastures of plenty must always be free