Tulare Dust

Tulare dust, in a farm boy's nose

Wondering where the freight train goes

Standing in a field by the railroad track

Cursing this strap on my cotton sack

I can see mom and dad with shoulders low

Both of 'em picking on a double row

They do it for a living because they must

That's life like it is in the Tulare dust

The California sun was something new

That when we arrived in '42

And I can still remember how my daddy cussed

The tumbleweeds here in the Tulare dust

The valley fever was a coming fate

To the farm workers here in the Golden State

And I miss Oklahoma but I'll stay

If I must, and help make a living in the Tulare dust

The Tulare dust, in a farm boy's nose

Wondering where the freight train goes

Standing in a cotton field by the railroad track

Cursing this strap, on my cotton sack

I see my dad