Talking Dust Bowl

Back in nineteen twenty-seven I had a little farm and I called that heaven Price's up, the rain come down I hauled my crops all into town Got the money, bought cold clothes and groceries Fed the kids and raised a big family But the rain's quit and the wind got high And the black, old dust storm filled the sky I swapped my farm for a Ford machine We I poured it full of this gas-i-line And we started rockin' and rollin' Down the dusty road to Californi-a We was goin' down the road A hot motor and a heavy load Goin' pretty fast, wasn't even stoppin' Bouncin' up and down, like popcorn poppin' Had a bustdown, kind of a nervous breakdown Mechanic feller charged me ten dollars Said it was engine trouble Well, way up yonder, in a piney wood Way up yonder, on a mountain curve I gave that little Ford a shove Thought we'd coast far as we could Commence coastin' Pickin' up speed Hairpin turn I didn't make it Man alive, I'm telling you The fiddles and the guitars really flew That Ford took off like a flying squirrel Flew halfway around the world Scattered wives and children all over the side of that mountain Well, we got to ol' Los Angeles broke So doggone hungry I thought I'd choke I bummed up a spud or two My wife cooked up tater stew We poured the kids full of it Mighty thin stew, though You could read a magazine right through it I always have thought and always have figured That if that old stew had been a little bit thinner Some of these here politicians could have seen through it