Maura O’Connell - Trouble in the Fields lyrics
[Maura O’Connell - Trouble in the Fields lyrics]
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 silos
Silver in the rain
They leave our pockets full of nothing
And our dreams in the golden grain
Have you seen the folks in
Line downtown at the station?
They're all buying their tickets 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 my 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 this 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
And 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)
And if we sell that new John Deere
Then we'll work this 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
Trouble in the fields
When the bankers swarm like locusts
They're turning away our yields
Our dreams roll by our silos
Silver in the rain
They leave our pockets full of nothing
And our dreams in the golden grain
Have you seen the folks in
Line downtown at the station?
They're all buying their tickets 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 my 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 this 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
And 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)
And if we sell that new John Deere
Then we'll work this 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