Paroles Pastures Of Plenty de Kingston Trio (The)

Kingston Trio (The)
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  • Artiste: Kingston Trio (The)8516
  • Chanson: Pastures Of Plenty
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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...

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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 Blue deserts so hot and your mountains so cold I've wandered...

Pastures Of Plenty de The Brothers Four

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 Blue deserts so hot and your mountains so cold I've wandered...

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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...

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...

Textes et Paroles de Pastures Of Plenty




(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 were cold.
I've wandered all over this green growing land. Wherever your crops were, I've lent you my hands.
On the edge of your city you'll see me and then, I come with the dust and I go with the wind.

California, Arizona, I've worked 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 to set on your table that light sparkling wine.

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground from the Grand Coulee dam where the waters run down
Every state in the Union this migrant has been. I come with the dust and I go with the wind.
It's always we ramble that river and I all along your green valley, I'll work 'til I die.
And I'll travel this road until death sets me free for my pastures of plenty must always be green.

I come with the dust and I go with the wind.

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