He walked all over his own growin' land
From the New York island to the California sand
He saw all the people that needed to be seen
Planted all the grass where there needed to be green
And now he's bound for a glory, all his own
And now he's bound for glory
He wrote and he sang and he rode upon the rails
And he got on board when the sailors had to sail
He said all the words that needed to be said
He fed all the hungry souls that needed to be fed
And now he's bound for a glory, all his own
And now he's bound for glory
He sang in our streets and he sang in our halls
And he was always there when the unions gave a call
He did all the jobs that needed to be done
And he always stood his ground when a smaller man would run
And now he's bound for a glory, all his own
And now he's bound for glory
And it's "Pastures of Plenty" wrote the Dust Bowl balladeer
And "This Land is Your Land", he wanted us to hear
And the risin' of the unions will be sung about again
Deportees live on through the power of his pen
And now he's bound for a glory, all his own
And now he's bound for glory
Now they sing out his praises on every distant shore
But so few remember what he was fightin' for
Oh, why sing the songs and forget about the aim?
He wrote them for a reason, why not sing them for the same?
For now he's bound for a glory, all his own
And now he's bound for glory
