They survived the dustbowl
Those years of harsh winds, drought, and economic collapse
Lungs drew in sand with each breath
The dust pneumonia took quite a few people down
The farmers, knowing no better, had overworked the land
They left no cover crops, plowed the soil too deep, fields went fallow
And the soil dried, turn to dust, and blew away
Some say it ended up as far north as Canada
Some say it ended up in the Atlantic
Didn't matter to the farmers where it went
All they knew was it was gone
For years they struggled
Trying to hold on to land that was worthless
There are museums here in Oklahoma
That struggle to keep their doors open
They were opened to keep the memory of that man-made disaster fresh
To remind those who weren't there of that folly
Of the exodus by millions from once fertile farmland
To the west coast or to the big cities of the east
Okies they called them, or worse, much worse
They worked as migrant farmers in the San Fernando Valley
And dreamed of returning to homes the winds had buried in sand
They ate food provided by the Federal Surplus Relief Corporation
The Civilian Conservation Corps gave them a living wage
Artist and Authors were hired to document the destruction
Photographers captured the pathos in stark black & white
The gaunt woman holding her children while the sun baked the dirt
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