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