Trouble in the Fields-Maura O'connell

Trouble In The Fields - Maura O'connell Baby I know that We've got trouble in the fields When the bankers swarm like locusts They're turning away our yields Our dreams roll by our silo silver in the rain And leave our pockets full of nothing And our dreams in the golden grain Have you sees the folks In line downtown at the station They're all buying their tickets out And they're talking a great depression Our parents had their hard times fifty years ago When they stood out in these empty fields In dust as deep as snow And all this trouble in our fields If this rain can fall these wounds can heal They'll never take our native soil If we sell that new John Deere Then we'll work these farm with sweat and tears You'll be the mule I'll be the plow Come harvest time we'll work it out There's still a lot of love Here in these troubled fields There's a book up on the shelf About the dust bowl days There's a little bit of you and a little bit of me In the photos in every page Now our children live in the city And they rest upon our shoulders They never want the rain To fall or the weather to get colder And all this trouble in our fields If this rain can fall these wounds can heal They'll never take our native soil no If we sell that new John Deere Then we'll work these farm with sweat and tears You'll be the mule I'll be the plow Come harvest time we'll work it out There's still a lot of love Here in these troubled fields You'll be the mule I'll be the plow Come harvest time we'll work it out There's still a lot of love Here in these troubled fields