Lots of folks back East, they say, is leavin' home every day. Beatin' the hot old dusty way to the California line. 'Cross the desert sands they roll, gettin' out of that old dust bowl. They think
If you'll gather 'round me, children. A story I will tell. 'Bout pretty boy Floyd, an outlaw. Oklahoma knew him well It was in the town of Shawnee. A Saturday afternoon. His wife beside him in hi
On the 14th day of April of 1935,. There struck the worst of dust storms that ever filled the sky. You could see that dust storm comin', the cloud looked deathlike black,. And through our mighty na
I just blowed in, and I got them dust bowl blues,. I just blowed in, and I got them dust bowl blues,. I just blowed in, and I'll blow back out again. I guess you've heard about ev'ry kind of blues,
I'm a dust bowl refugee,. Just a dust bowl refugee,. From that dust bowl to the peach bowl,. Now that peach fuzz is a-killin' me. 'Cross the mountains to the sea,. Come the wife and kids and me.