It's a mighty hard row that these poor hands have hoed
My poor feet has traveled the hot dusty road
Out of your dustbowl and westward we rolled
Through deserts so hot and mountains so cold

Well I've wandered all over your green growing land
And wherever your crops are, I'll lend you my hand
On 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've worked on your crops
Then northward up to Oregon I gather your hops
I've dug beets from your ground, and I've cut grapes from your vine
To set on your table that light, sparkling wine

It's green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state of this Union as migrants have been
We come with the dust and we're gone with the wind

I come with the dust and I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone
with the wind, with the wind, with the wind, with the wind

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