Trouble In The Fields - Lyrics - Nanci Griffith

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