Baby, I know that we got trouble in the fields 

And the bankers swarm like locusts out there, turning away our yields 

And the trains roll by our silo, silver in the rain 

Leave our pockets full of nothing but these dreams of the golden grain 



I can see the folks lined up downtown at the station 

They're all buying their tickets out and they're talking a 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 

And 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 the dust bowl days 

There's a little bit of you and a little bit of me in the photos on every page 

Our children live in the city and they rest upon our shoulders 

They don't 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 

And if we sell that new John Deere and 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 here in these troubled fields