Pastures Of Plenty Chords by Woody Guthrie
Tempo:
118.9 bpm
Chords used:
D
A
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[D]
It's a mighty hard road that my poor hand is told.
My poor feet has traveled a hot dusty road.
Out of your dust bowl and westward we rolled, And your desert was hot and your mountains was cold.
I worked in your orchards of peaches and fruits, Slept on the ground in the light of your moon.
On the edge of your city you've seen us, And then we come with the dust and we go with the wind.
California and Arizona, I make all your crops, And it's north up to Oregon to gather your hops.
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine, To set on your table your
light sparkling wine.
Green pastures of plenty, dry desert ground, From that grand Coulee Dam where the water runs down.
Ever stayed in this union us migrants have been, We'll work [A] in this fight and we'll fight
till [D] we win.
Well it's always we ramble that river and I, All along your green valley I'll work till I die.
My land I'll defend with my life if it be, Cause my pastures of plenty [A] must always [D] be free.
It's a mighty hard road that my poor hand is told.
My poor feet has traveled a hot dusty road.
Out of your dust bowl and westward we rolled, And your desert was hot and your mountains was cold.
I worked in your orchards of peaches and fruits, Slept on the ground in the light of your moon.
On the edge of your city you've seen us, And then we come with the dust and we go with the wind.
California and Arizona, I make all your crops, And it's north up to Oregon to gather your hops.
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine, To set on your table your
light sparkling wine.
Green pastures of plenty, dry desert ground, From that grand Coulee Dam where the water runs down.
Ever stayed in this union us migrants have been, We'll work [A] in this fight and we'll fight
till [D] we win.
Well it's always we ramble that river and I, All along your green valley I'll work till I die.
My land I'll defend with my life if it be, Cause my pastures of plenty [A] must always [D] be free.
Key:
D
A
D
A
D
A
D
A
[D] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
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_ _ It's a mighty hard road that my poor hand is told.
_ _ My poor feet has traveled a hot dusty road.
_ _ _ _ _ _ Out of your dust bowl and westward we rolled, And your desert was hot and your mountains was cold. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ I worked in your orchards of peaches and fruits, _ Slept on the ground in the light of your moon.
_ _ On the edge of your city you've seen us, And then we come with the dust and we go with the wind. _ _ _ _ _
California and Arizona, I make all your crops, And it's north up to Oregon to gather your hops.
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine, To set on your table your
light sparkling wine.
_ _ _ _ Green pastures of plenty, dry desert ground, From that grand Coulee Dam where the water runs down. _
Ever stayed in this union us migrants have been, We'll work [A] in this fight and we'll fight
till [D] we win. _
_ Well it's always we ramble that river and I, All along your green valley I'll work till I die.
My land I'll defend with my life if it be, Cause my pastures of plenty [A] must always [D] be free. _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ It's a mighty hard road that my poor hand is told.
_ _ My poor feet has traveled a hot dusty road.
_ _ _ _ _ _ Out of your dust bowl and westward we rolled, And your desert was hot and your mountains was cold. _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ I worked in your orchards of peaches and fruits, _ Slept on the ground in the light of your moon.
_ _ On the edge of your city you've seen us, And then we come with the dust and we go with the wind. _ _ _ _ _
California and Arizona, I make all your crops, And it's north up to Oregon to gather your hops.
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine, To set on your table your
light sparkling wine.
_ _ _ _ Green pastures of plenty, dry desert ground, From that grand Coulee Dam where the water runs down. _
Ever stayed in this union us migrants have been, We'll work [A] in this fight and we'll fight
till [D] we win. _
_ Well it's always we ramble that river and I, All along your green valley I'll work till I die.
My land I'll defend with my life if it be, Cause my pastures of plenty [A] must always [D] be free. _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
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