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Tulare dust in a farm boy's nose |
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Wondering where the freight train goes |
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Standin' in the field by the railroad track |
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Cursin' this strap on my cotton sack |
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I can see mom and dad with shoulders low |
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Both of 'em pickin' on a double row |
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They do it for a livin' because they must |
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That's life like it is in the Tulare dust |
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The California sun was something new |
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That when we arrived in '42 |
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And I can still remember how my daddy cussed |
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The tumbleweeds here in the Tulare dust |
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The wally fever was a comin' fate |
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To the farmworkers here in the Golden State |
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And I miss Oklahoma but I'll stay |
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If I must and help make a livin' in the Tulare dust |
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The Tulare dust in a farm boy's nose |
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Wondering where the freight train goes |
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Standin' in the field by the railroad track |
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Cursin' this strap on my cotton sack |
