Am  F  Am  F

[Verse 1]
       Am          F           Am              F
It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
   C              F          C         E7
My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
Am          F             Am
Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
                      C            D7  F    G     Am  F  Am  F
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold


[Verse 2]
    Am         F       Am           F
California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
          C           F         C           E7
Well, its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
         Am             F               Am
Dig your beets from the ground, cut the grapes from the vine
               C          D7   F  G           Am  F  Am  F
To set on your table your light___  sparkling wine


[Verse 3]
  Am             F           Am          F       C
I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
               F             C            E7
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
       Am           F         Am
On the edge of your city, you see us some days
                 C              D7  F  G         Am  F  Am  F
We come with the dust and we'll go____  with the wind


[Verse 4]
      Am          F           Am         F
Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
         C            F             C          E7
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
      Am           F        Am
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
                       C               D7  F   G         Am  F  Am  F
And we'll work in this fight and we'll fight___  till we win


[Verse 5]
     Am        F        Am             F
It's always we rambled, that river and I
     C               F              C           E7
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
   Am       F            Am
My land I defend with my life, if it be
                      C           D7   F    G   Am  F  Am  F
'Cause my pastures of plenty must always___  be free


[Verse 6]
       Am          F           Am              F
It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
   C              F          C         E7
My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
Am          F             Am
Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
                      C            D7  F    G     Am  F  Am  F  Am
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold