Baby, I know we've got trouble in the fields
When the bankers swarm like locusts
Out there turnin' away our yield
The trains roll by our silo...silver in the rain
They leave our pockets full of nothin'
But our dreams and the golden grain
Have you seen the folks in line downtown at the station
They're all buyin' their tickets out
And they're talkin' 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
All this trouble in our fields
If this rain can fall
These wounds can heal
They'll never take our native soil
What if we sell sell that new John Deere?
And then we'll work these crops with sweat and tear
You'll be the mule
And 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 upon the shelf about those dust bowl days
And there's a little bit of you and little bit of me
In the photos on every page
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
All this trouble in our fields
If this rain can fall
These wounds can heal
They'll never take our native soil
What if we sell sell that new John Deere?
And then we'll work these crops with sweat and tear
You'll be the mule
And 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