I'm blowin' down this old dusty road,
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road,
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way.
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine,
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine,
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
I'm a-goin' where the dust storms never blow,
I'm a-goin' where them dust storms never blow,
I'm a-goin' where them dust storms never blow, blow, blow,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
They say I'm a dust bowl refugee,
Yes, they say I'm a dust bowl refugee,
They say I'm a dust bowl refugee, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay,
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay,
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
My children need three square meals a day,
Now, my children need three square meals a day,
My children need three square meals a day, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet,
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet,
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
Your a-two-dollar shoe hurts my feet,
Your two-dollar shoe hurts my feet,
Yes, your two-dollar shoe hurts my feet, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
I'm a-goin' down this old dusty road,
I'm blowin' down this old dusty road,
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road,
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way.
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine,
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine,
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
I'm a-goin' where the dust storms never blow,
I'm a-goin' where them dust storms never blow,
I'm a-goin' where them dust storms never blow, blow, blow,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
They say I'm a dust bowl refugee,
Yes, they say I'm a dust bowl refugee,
They say I'm a dust bowl refugee, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay,
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay,
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
My children need three square meals a day,
Now, my children need three square meals a day,
My children need three square meals a day, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet,
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet,
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
Your a-two-dollar shoe hurts my feet,
Your two-dollar shoe hurts my feet,
Yes, your two-dollar shoe hurts my feet, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
I'm a-goin' down this old dusty road,
I'm blowin' down this old dusty road,
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.
envoyé par Dead End - 20/8/2012 - 14:08
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Parole e musica di Woody Guthrie e Lee Hays
Album “Dust Bowl Ballads”
Durante i primi decenni del XX secolo le grandi e fertili pianure al centro degli USA furono coltivate intensivamente e dissennatamente, senza badare alla rotazione delle colture e senza mai dare respiro alla terra. Durante e dopo la prima guerra mondiale la produzione agricola fu spinta ben oltre la resistenza del suolo, che si inaridì e desertificò velocemente sotto i colpi degli aratri. All’inizio degli anni 30 il dissesto geologico era compiuto e i venti cominciarono a strappare via, letteralmente, la superficie della terra, alzando spaventose tempeste di sabbia. Nella “Dust Bowl”, la “conca della polvere”, compresa tra Texas, Kansas, Oklahoma, Colorado e Nuovo Messico, mezzo milione di americani restarono senza nulla e cominciarono un esodo biblico verso ovest, verso la California. Lì, nel “paese del latte e del miele”, i migranti finivano invece a lavorare come schiavi nelle grandi tenute agricole: è la storia di "The Grapes of Wrath" di John Steinbeck/John Ford, di tante canzoni del “menestrello dell’Oklahoma” (per esempio Tom Joad, Dust Bowl Refugee, Talking Dust Bowl Blues, I Ain't Got No Home (In This World Anymore) e Dust Can't Kill Me) e, più recentemente, di The Ghost Of Tom Joad del suo erede Bruce Springsteen…
Sto andando dove scorrono fiumi di vino e dove non ci sono tempeste…
Ma loro dicono che sono solo un rifugiato dalla conca della polvere…
Sono alla ricerca di un lavoro pagato onestamente…
I mie bambini hanno bisogno di mangiare tre volte al giorno…
Mi ci vorrebbero 10 dollari per vivere dignitosamente ma i 2 dollari che mi date non mi bastano affatto, anzi, mi fanno male.
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