Paroles Pastures Of Plenty de Solas

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  • Artiste: Solas34848
  • Chanson: Pastures Of Plenty
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Pastures Of Plenty de Kingston Trio (The)

(Woody Guthrie) It's a mighty hard road that my poor hands have hoed. My poor feet have traveled a hot, dusty road. Out of your dust bowls and westward we rode. Your deserts were hot and your mountains...

Pastures Of Plenty de The Kingston Trio

(Woody Guthrie) It's a mighty hard road that my poor hands have hoed. My poor feet have traveled a hot, dusty road. Out of your dust bowls and westward we rode. Your deserts were hot and your mountains...

Pastures Of Plenty de Woody Guthrie

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 I...

Pastures Of Plenty (Woodie Guthrie) de Kelly Joe Phelps

It's a mighty hard road that my poor hands have hoed My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled Your desert was hot and your mountain was cold I've worked...

Pastures Of Plenty de Pete Seeger

It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed; 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 were cold. I've...

Textes et Paroles de Pastures Of Plenty



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

My poor feet have travelled this hot dusty road

Out of your dustbowl and westward we roam

Through deserts so hot and through mountains so cold



I've wandered all over your green growing land

Wherever your crops are, I'll lend you my hand

On the edge of your cities, you'll see me and then

I come with the dust and I'm gone with the wind



California, Arizona, I've worked on your crops

And northward up to Oregon to gather your hops

I've dug beets from the ground, I've cut grapes from the vine

To set at your table that white sparkling wine



Green pastures of plenty from the dry desert ground

From the grand Coolie Dam where the waters run down

In every state of this union we migrants have been

We work on the land and we'll fight until we win



It's always we ramble, that river and I

All along your green valleys I'll work till I die

Travel this road until death sets me free

Because pastures of plenty must always be free

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