Have you seen the folks in line
They're all buying their ticket out and
talking the great depression
Our parents had their hard
When they stood out in these empty
fields in dust as deep as snow
And all this trouble in our fields
They'll never take our native soil
But if we sell that new John Deere
And then we'll work these crops
You'll be the mule I'll be the plow
There's still a lot of love,
here in these troubled fields
There's a book up on the shelf
And there's a little bit of you
In the photos on every page
Now our children live in the city
and they rest upon our shoulders
They never want the rain to fall
or the weather to get colder
And all this trouble in our fields
They'll never take our native soil
But if we sell that new John
And then we'll work these crops
You'll be the mule I'll be the plow
There's still a lot of love,
here in these troubled fields
