My friend, Brett made a film on organic farming and asked me to create a piece for it—my own version of Woody’s original. A tall order, but it came out okay.


It’s a mighty hard row that his poor hands have hoed / His poor feet have traveled a hot, dusty road
Out of your dustbowl and westward he rolled / And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold

He worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes / He slept on the ground in the light of the moon
On the edge of the city you’ll see him and then / He comes with the dust and he goes with the wind

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground / From the grand Coulee dam where the waters run down
Every state in the union this migrant has been / He’ll work in this fight and he’ll fight ’til he wins

Always we rambled, that river and I / All along that green valley, I’ll work ’til I die
My land I’ll defend with my life if it be / ‘Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free


Vocals, Piano, Violin, Synths: Richele Kuhlmann
Original Words and Music: Woody Guthrie