The rain follows the cloud
So we busted up the salt and
The price of grain was high that year
And we were barely surviving
But the livestock all was dying
Their bodies were just filling up with dust
But what was almost beyond bearing
Was the government not caring
When the banks across our county
And the sky was raining gravel,
an d the wind was whistling cold
Mercury set seventeen low
And like the church's gavel,
God gave us the dust bowl
There was no way you could fix
The spring of thirty -six
And the cars all shorted out
From the static in the clouds
We really had no way of getting out
And the roadside signs will warn ya,
there's no work in California
Lokis are not welcome, stay away
And the cowboy is drinking at the store,
remembering the days before
For the sky raining gravel
And the wind just whistling cold
Mercury went seventeen below
And like the church's gal
