It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed;

[ET Awful]

My poor feet have traveled that hot dusty road.
Out of the dust bowl and westward we rolled,
Your desert was hot and your mountains was cold.

I've worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes;
I've slept on the ground in the light of your moon.
On the edge of your city you'll seen us and then,
We come with the dust and we're gone with the wind.

California, Arizona, I make all your crops,
Then north up to Oregon to gather your hops.
Pull 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 desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the water runs down.
Every state in this union us migrants have been;
We'll work in this fight and we'll fight 'til we win.

Well, it's always we ramble that river and I;
All along your green valleys I'll work 'til I die.
My land I'll defend with my life if need be
'Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free.

[EC]

1. Woody Guthrie?

Pastures of Plenty...good song

[ET Awful]

4. Take it easy, but take it.

:)

[GoddessOfGuinness]

2. Thanks

[ET Awful]

3. I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good.

I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim or too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard travelling.

I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you.

I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think that you've not got any sense at all. But I decided a long time ago that I'd starve to death before I'd sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyhow.