Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free, That's a place where I think you ought to go Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky, On the great plains of Old Nebrasky–O.
In school I read of men who died by the gun, But not of those who died by the hoe. The land has drunk the rains of many a farmers' blood Now forgotten and buried long ago.
Where are the hands that plowed fields without sleep Hands that saved a dying calf without rest Where are the feet that walked down them hot dusty trails On their way to seek their fortunes going west.
And where are the fathers who died in the dust And mothers who died hungry in the snow And where are the kids that watched the banks plow their houses down Those are the things I guess my teaches never knowed.
You tell me drought hurt only corn and not men You smile and say hard times have gone away I guess I should listen to my city politician Who keeps telling me these are better days.
Is there anybody left to walk a muddy mile Is courage a word that's only said Is it true them dusty days are days that never really were But are only tales in books to be read.
Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free, That�s a place where I think you ought to go Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky, On the great plains of Old Nebrasky–O.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
