I was a farmer till the top soil blew away
From Texas all the way to L.A.
But when the land gives up and there's no more pay
The big city is your last stop
I take my orders from the union hall
I work on wet iron seven fifty feet tall
And if I may slip its the coroner you'll call
I'll be half way to hell if I fall
Through all my years of desperate wandering
It's hard to imagine I'd amount to anything
But now my ship has finally come in
And I'm part of this brotherhood now
This is the start of what could be the end
This great depression the country's on the mend
A fair days wage for a fair days work
That's all I got coming to me