This land is your land This land is my land From California to the New York island; From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters This land was
your cup Winds got you sideways, one hand holdin' on The other starts slippin' and the feelin' is gone And your train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it Wood
words and music by Woody Guthrie While we're on the subject of hard work, I just wanted to say that I always was a man to work. I was born working and
go to the church of your choice Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital You'll find God in the church of your choice You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn
The end of the summer, down in New Orleans Should've called, got caught up in the scene Ain't nothin' wrong, ain't a damn thing right Gonna be comin'
Well, a curly-headed girl with a bright shining smile Heard the roar of a plane as it sailed through the sky To her playmates she said, with a bright
1) Green Douglas firs where the water cuts through Down the wild mountains and canyons she flew Canadian north-west to the ocean so blue It's roll on
Sowing on the mountain Reaping in the valley Sowing on the mountain Reaping in the valley Sowing on the mountain Reaping in the valley You're gonna reap
In the world's mighty gallery of pictures There're scenes that are painted from life, Scenes of youth and of beauty, Scenes of hardship and strife,
Way down in Columbus Georgia Lord I wish I was back in Tennessee Way down in that old Columbus Stockade My friends all have turned their back on me.
Jesse James and his boys rode that Dodge City Trail Held up the midnight Southern mail And there never was a man with the law in his hand That could keep
Eats an' drinks an' smokes are gone, Ice on th'steps an' you cain't git home; Hang y'r things on th' peg in th' corner; Giggle an' wiggle an' dance a
Dear Mrs. Roosevelt, don't hang your head and cry; His mortal clay is laid away, but his good work fills the sky; This world was lucky to see him born
Lots of folks back East, they say, is leavin' home every day Beatin' the hot old dusty way to the California line 'Cross the desert sands they roll, gettin
Chorus: Don't you push me, push me, push me, Don't you push me down. Don't you push me, push me, push me, Don't you push me down. You can play with me
In bed with my woman, just a singing the blues And I heard the radio a telling the news Said, the big Red army took a hundred towns And the allies dropping
Take a trip with me in 1913 To Calumet, Michigan, in the copper country I'll take you to a place called Italian Hall And the miners are having their big
I ride an old Paint, I'm leadin' old Dan I'm goin' to Montana just to throw the houlihan They feed in the coulees, they water in the draw Their tails
