Trouble In The Fields

One, two, three

Baby I know that we got trouble in the fields

And the bankers swarm like locusts out there turning away our yields

And the trains roll by our silo silver in the rain

Leave or pockets full of nothing

But these dreams in the golden grain

I can see the folks lined up downtown at the station

They're all buying their tickets out

And they're talking a great depression

Our parents had their hard times fifty years ago

When they stood out in these empty fields in dust as deep as snow

And all this trouble in our fields

If this rain can fall these wounds can heal

They'll never take our native soil

And if we sell that new John Deere

Then we'll work these crops with sweat and tears

You'll be the mule, I'll be the plow

Come harvest time, we'll work it out

There's still a lot of love here in these troubled fields

There's a book up on the shelf about the dust bowl days

There's a little bit of you and a little bit of me

In the photos on every page

Our children live in the city and they rest upon our shoulders

They don't want the rain to fall or the weather to get colder

And all this trouble in our fields

If this rain can fall these wounds can heal

They'll never take our native soil

And if we sell that new John Deere

And then we'll work these crops with sweat and tears

You'll be the mule, I'll be the plow

Come harvest time, we'll work it out

There's still a lot of love here in these troubled fields

You'll be the mule, I'll be the plow

Come harvest time, we'll work it out

There's still a lot of love here in these troubled fields