Dusty Fields Songtext
von Phil Odgers

Out here in the English fields
The old soil yields a crop
To us from far flung shores
We send it on by truck
To our brothers in the stores
Stacking through the night
With our sisters cleaning floors
We are the poor

In the fields, in the fields
Picking beets and beans until the dusk

In the dusty fields
In the camp of wire and dust
I dream of my escape
I look out from a wooden hut
To where my back will break


In the fields, in the fields
I′m picking beets and beans until the dusk
In the dusty fields

But if crops can rise
Then so can I
In the fields
The dusty fields

I take my place in the working line
Bound by wire and regulations
I go to the picking zone
A chain gang of the nations

In the fields, in the fields
Picking beets and beans until the dusk
In the dusty fields

But if crops can rise
Then so can I
In the fields
The dusty fields

In the fields
The dusty fields