Trouble In The Fields - Maura O'connell

Baby I know that

We've got trouble in the fields

When the bankers swarm like locusts

They're turning away our yields

Our dreams roll by our silo silver in the rain

And leave our pockets full of nothing

And our dreams in the golden grain

Have you sees the folks

In line 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

If we sell that new John Deere

Then we'll work these farm 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 in 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 no

If we sell that new John Deere

Then we'll work these farm 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