Dust Bowl Refugee.

I'm a dust bowl refugee,
Just a dust bowl refugee,
From that dust bowl to the peach bowl,
Now that peach fuzz is killing me.

Cross the mountains to the sea,
Come the wife and kids and me.
It's a hot old dusty highway
For the dust bowl refugees.

Hard, it's always been that way,
Here today  and on our way
Down the mountain, cross the desert,
Just a dust bowl refugee.

We are ramblers, so they say,
We are only here today,
Then we travel with the seasons,
We're the dust bowl refugees.

From the south land to the drouth land,
Come the wife and kids and me,
And this old world is a hard world
For a dust bowl refugee.

Yes, we ramble and we roam
And the highway that's our home,
It's a never-ending highway
For a dust bowl refugee.

Yes we wander and we work
In your crops and in your fruit,
Like the whirlwinds in the desert
That's the dust bowl refugees.