Woodrow Wilson Guthrie

Woodrow Wilson Guthrie sat alone in a bar
He did not come by aeroplane, he did not come by car
Rode in on the hobo rail with one eye full of sky
A pocket full of promises, a bottle full of rye.

He stood up to look behind, to see what had gone past
Sat down at the table and he stared out through the glass
Thought about Tom Jefferson, he thought about Tom Joad
Thought of all those migrant families rolling down that road

Woody, you sure yanked Uncle's chain
It's a pity that things are still the same
Woody, we're still hauling your freight
Come on, look alive now, don't be late.

Stared out through the window at those dusty rolling fields
Thought of all those hungry children, all those empty meals
Thought of all those bankers as those lawyers up on high
Though of Ma and thought of Pa and hung his head to cry

Woodrow Wilson Guthrie, he set out on the trail
Kept his nose down to the scent, it never did go stale
Led him to the greedy, to the power-hungry few
And he just penned another tune, until his pen was through

Now some time has passed on by, the nation wears a shawl
The cow trail is a highway and the dust bowl is a mall
But you still need that do-re-me to catch the golden ring
And everywhere the migrants go, you hear his old voice sing

Woody, you sure yanked Uncle's chain
It's a pity that things are still the same
Woody, we're still hauling your freight
Come on, look alive now, don't be late.