Black dirt farms in the garden of Iowa
Covered the booty of anthracite coal
Power was short, money was talkin'
They laid back her flesh
And they tore up her soul
Walk on down to the dying river
See the old man by the rattling slough
Ask him how he made it
through the winter
If you're lucky he might tell you
Back in the hills of old West Virginia
The people are poor
They live off the land
But livin' is one thing, starvin's another
Cause nothing will grow
on bedrock and sand
Walk on down to the dying river
See the old man by the rattling slough
Ask his name
Cause he might be your brother
He might be your father
He might be you
Motors are hummin'
A can opener opens
a can that is empty, a bottle that's cold
Under a street lamp a tycoon is beggin'
For one ear of corn
you can have all his gold
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