I've learned this from Woody
Here’s how I sing it
Once he told me I sing it better than anybody
This is the way

It's a mighty hard row my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled hot dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl westward we rolled
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold

California, Arizona, I make all your crops
Well, up north to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from the ground, pull the grapes from your vine
To set on your table the light sparkling wine

Well, I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
And I slept down on the ground with the light of your moon
Every state in this Union us migrants has been
Well, we'll work in this fight and we’ll fight till we win

Green the pastures of plenty from the dry desert ground
From the grand Coulee Dam where your waters run down
Every state in this Union us migrants has been
Well, we come with the dust and we go with the wind

And it's always we've rambled, that river and I
All along your green valleys I'll work till I die
This land I'll defend with my life, if it be
'cause my pastures of plenty, they must always be free