Текст песни Bob Dylan - Pastures Of Plenty

Bob Dylan's version of Pastures of Plenty by Woody Guthrie.

When transitioning from  to , play in reverse for  to .
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While strumming, Bob hammers on and off his ring finger, you have to listen for when he does it.

Capo 2

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
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold

California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
Well its 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

[Verse 3a] - On Minnesota Tapes

I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win

[Verse 3b] - On Gaslight Recording

I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
Wherever your crops are, I'll lend you my hand
I'll ramble all over your green growing land

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
We come with the dust and we go with the wind

It's always we rambled, that river and I
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
This land I'll defend with my life if need be
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free