California Cottonfields

<br>My driftin` memory goes back to the spring of `43, <br>When I was just a child in momma`s arms. <br>My daddy plowed the ground and promised someday we would leave <br>This run-down mortgaged Oklahoma farm. <br>Then one night I heard my daddy sayin` to my momma<br>That he`d finally saved enough to go.<br>California was his dream, a paradise, for he had seen<br>Pictures in magazines that told him so.<br><br>California Cottonfields, <br>Where labor camps were filled with weary men with broken dreams.<br>California Cottonfields, <br>As close to wealth as daddy ever came.<br><br>Nearly everything we had was sold or left behind,<br>From my daddy`s plow to the soup that momma canned.<br>Some folks came to say farewell or see what all we had to sell;<br>Some just came to shake my daddy`s hand.<br>That model A was loaded down and California bound;<br>A change of luck was just 4 days away.<br>But the only change that I remember seeing in my daddy<br>Was when his dark hair turned to silver grey.<br><br>California Cottonfields, <br>Where labor camps were filled with weary men with broken dreams.<br>California Cottonfields, <br>As close to wealth as daddy ever came.