Grapes Of Wrath Lyrics

The sweat upon his brow and the dirt worked into his hands The dignity of labour upon a man's own land

The soil of his fathers passes on down through blood to hand A man's right of birth to reap the harvest from his land

The breaking of his back to keep his dream alive To work the change of season his instinct to survive

The planting of his seed and to see his harvest grow Gives a pride to a man to reap the harvest that he sows

The land of the free, home of the brave The heartland of pioneers, the heritage of flesh and blood

And along come the winds that blow through the land With a price to pay for the working man

Money talks and changes hands And money reaps the harvest money demands
The grapes of wrath

They can take away his freedom they can beat him into the dust They can burn his home, run him from his land, and leave him out to gather rust

But they can't take away his faith and his honesty and pride And the knowledge that he holds inside One day they'll reap the harvest

The grapes of wrath

There's hope in a man that nothing can destroy A man will endure anything for the dream that he holds dear

And there's pride in a man who knows the truth His faith in the earth he toils for His honesty for the air he breathes

The truth of the harvest they will reap

The grapes of wrath

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