Tulare dust in a farm boy`s nose Wondering where the freight train goes Standin` in the field by the railroad track Cursin` this strap on my cotton sack
I can see mom and dad with shoulders low Both of `em pickin` on a double row They do it for a livin` 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 wally fever was a comin` fate To the farmworkers here in the Golden State And I miss Oklahoma but I`ll stay If I must and help make a livin` in the Tulare dust
The Tulare dust in a farm boy`s nose Wondering where the freight train goes Standin` in the field by the railroad track Cursin` this strap on my cotton sack
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