Текст песни Pastures of Plenty (Pierce Pettis) с переводом

It’s a mighty rough row that my poor hands have hoed

My poor feet have travelled a hot dusty road

Out of your dust bowl, and westward we roll

And your desert was hot and your mountains was cold

Well, I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes

Slept on the ground by the light of the moon

On the edge of the city you seen us, and then…

We come with the dust and we’re gone with the wind

California, Arizona, I make all your crops

Then it’s north up to Oregon to gather your hops

Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vines

Just to set on your table your bright, sparkling wine

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground

From the Grand Coulee Dam where the water washes down

Every state in the Union, us migrants have been

We’ll work in this fight and we’ll fight 'til we win

Well, it’s always we rambled, this river and I

All along the green valley I will work until I die

My land, with my life, I’ll defend if need be

For my pastures of plenty must always be free

My land, with my life, I’ll defend if need be

For my pastures of plenty must always be free

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