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letra de pastures of plenty - the harvesters (ny)

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it’s a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
my poor feet has traveled this hot dusty road
out of your dust bowl and westward we rolled
your desert was hot and your mountain was cold

well, i’ve 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 make all your crops
it’s 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 desеrt ground
from the grand coulee dam where thе 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

well, it’s always we’ve 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
it’s a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
my poor feet has traveled this hot dusty road
out of your dust bowl and westward we rolled
your desert was hot and your mountain was cold

- the harvesters ny

letras aleatórias

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