Pastures of Plenty (Live)

Pastures of Plenty (Live) - Harry Belafonte (哈里·貝拉方特)

Written by：Woody Guthrie

It's a mighty hard row

That my poor hands have hoed

Poor feet have traveled hot dusty road

Out of your dust Bowl and Westward we rolled

Blue deserts so hot and your mountains so cold

I wandered all over this green growing land

Where ever your crops are I lend you my hands

At 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 worked on your crops

North up to Oregon to gather your hops

I got beets from your ground

I cut grapes from your vines

To sat on your table's that light

That sparkling wine

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground

From the grand Coulee Dam

Where the water runs down

Every state of this Union us migrants have been

We come with the dust

And we're gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone

With the wind

It's always we rambled that river and I

All along your green Valley's

I'd work till I die

I traveled this road until death lets me be

Cause pastures of plenty must always be free

It's a mighty hard row

That my poor hands have hoed

Poor feet have traveled hot dusty road

And edge of your cities you see me and then

I come with the dust

And I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone

With the wind