We are the children of the Great Depression
Should I stay or should I go?
Its one less mouth to feed, I know.
Adventure’s out there, for me to see!
Escape the breadlines, I soon must flee!
On the boxcars, I’ll escape it all.
Saw a boy try getting on, hurt himself with that fall.
Out here in the world, we ain’t real safe,
But compared to home, I’d prefer being waif.
Shantytowns and hoovervilles, its truly sad to see.
The poverty, lost property; has reached brand new degrees.
These makeshift homes of scrap and such are nothing to behold,
Have to leave the train, avoid black blizzards, or so I have been told.
Good thing that I made it out, I’ve heard what those things spew,
Dirt, and heat, and grime; defeat, its all just so brand new.
I’ve seen all the Okies picking crops, they say it helps for food,
Leaving home, just all alone; to sadness they obtrude.
This freight yards near a factory, I think I’ll stop on by;
Feeling sick and malnourished, I think I just might die.
I’ll need to join the labor force, for all the schools have closed;
Desperation laid out bare, so many to oppose.
Got that job, ain’t seen no more, of Hoover Tourists,
Maybe all the “accidents”, on freight cars, I am blessed.
I only passed through this “Dust Bowl” but still the word has spread,
All the other wild boys, choked and wound up… dead.
Conditions bad, my health is worse, I fear my soul may quit
Ain’t a lick of care for wildboys, and it makes me so much more sick.
Ain’t gonna be no Welfare, to save me from this flu,
Lost all my money, was beaten, left black and blue.
Father found me, he left too, we’re all just torn apart.
Took me home, went to the lines, but bread can’t save my heart.
Relief won’t come, its not enough, papa’s left in tears.
This time has made me realize, my deepest, greatest, fears.