Baby, I know that we've got trouble in the fields
When the bankers swarm like locusts out there turning away our yield
The trains roll by our silos, silver in the rain
They leave our pockets full of nothing but our dreams and the golden grain
Have you seen the folks in line there downtown at the station?
They're all buying their ticket out and they're talking the great depression
Our parents had their hard times fifty years ago
When they stood out in these empty fields in dust as deep as snow
And all this trouble in our fields
If this rain can fall, these wounds can heal
They'll never take our native soil
But if we sell that new John Deere
Then we'll work these crops with sweat and tears
You'll be the mule, I'll be the plow
Come harvest time we'll work it out
There's still a lot of love here in these troubled fields
There's a book up on the shelf about those dust bowl days
And there's a little bit of you and a little bit of me 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
If this rain can fall, these wounds can heal
They'll never take our native soil
But if we sell that new John Deere
Then we'll work these crops with sweat and tears
You'll be the mule, I'll be the plow
Come harvest time we'll work it out
There's still a lot of love here in these troubled fields
You'll be the mule, I'll be the plow
Come harvest time we'll work it out
There's still a lot of love right here in these troubled fields