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California Cotton
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My drifiting memory goes back to the spring of 43 When I was just a child in mama's arms My daddy plowed the ground and prayed Someday we might leave this rundown mortgaged Oklahoma farm. And then one night I heard my daddy Aaying to my mama that he'd finally saved enough to go Californa was his dream of paradise Fore he had seen pictures in magazines that told him so. Californa cottonfields where labor camps are filled With worried men with broken dreams Californa cottonfields as close to wealth As daddy ever came. Well, almost everything we had was sold or left behind From my daddy's plow to the fruit that mama canned And some folks came to say


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