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
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold
I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
On the edge of the city you'll see us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind
California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
To set on your table your 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 us migrants have been
We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win
(
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jl-WNQWd-sw )
Good morning, everyone! Friday's here. Oddly enough, it feels like Tuesday, but I'm not sure if it's next Tuesday or last Tuesday. I was watching field workers threshing rice yesterday and I guess these folks will work right through the weekend. Farming's rough.
I've got a big mug of unbranded Keemun tea to drink this morning. I'm sure glad I bought of lot of this when I had the chance. It's good!
Stitchawl