| Talking Dust Bowl Blues
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| (Woody Guthrie)
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| Back in nineteen twenty seven
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| I had a little farm and I called it heaven
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| Prices up and the rain come down
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| I hauled my crops all into town
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| Got the money… bought clothes and groceries…
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| Fed the kids. |
| and raised a big family
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| But the rain quit and the wind got high
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| Black old dust storm filled the sky
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| I traded my farm for a Ford machine
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| Poured it full of this gas-i-line
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| And started… rocking and a-rolling
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| Deserts and mountains… to California
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| Way up yonder on a mountain road
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| Hot motor and a heavy load
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| Going purty fast, wasn’t even stopping
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| Bouncing up and down like popcorn a-popping
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| Had a breakdown. |
| kind of a nervous bustdown
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| Mechanic feller there charged me five bucks
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| And said it was En-gine trouble
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| Way up yonder on a mountain curve
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| Way up yonder in a piney wood
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| I gave that rolling Ford a shove
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| Gonna coast just fars as I could
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| Commence a rolling. |
| picking up speed
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| Come a hairpin turn. |
| and I didn’t make it
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| Man alive, I’m a telling you
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| The fiddles and guitars really flew
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| That Ford took off like a flying squirrel
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| Flew halfway around the world
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| Scattered wives and children
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| All over the side of that mountain
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| Got to California so dad-gum broke
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| So dad-gum hungry I thought I’d choke
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| I bummed up a spud or two
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| Wife fixed up some tater stew
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| We poured the kids full of it
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| Looked like a tribe of thy-mometers
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| arunning around
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| Lord, man, I swear to you
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| That was surely mighty thin stew
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| So damn thin I really mean
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| You could read a magizine
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| Right through it. |
| look at the pictures too
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| Purty whiskey bottles. |
| naked women
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| Always have thought, always figured
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| If that damn stew had been a little thinner
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| Some of these here politicians
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| Could of seen through it
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| @hardtimes
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| Filename[ DUSTBOWL
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| SF
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| ===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY |