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Well, the dust it started blowing
'Neath the windows and the door
Blew us out of Oklahoma
In a 1944
Living rough beside the highway
Mexicali rice and beans
The dust blew us to California
The valley of the San Joaquin
We were living in a boxcar
Sleeping in our old work clothes
Friday nights down at the dance hall
We heard the Maddox Boys and Rose
My papa picked the grapes and kept some
My mama made that sweet blue wine
We vowed someday that we'd see Hollywood
Drive back on up that old grapevine
We come rolling down those canyons
That old engine how it whined
Seems like you could sing forever
On that hill they call grapevine
Some found Jesus in the prayer tents
Some drank themselves to hell
Me, I finally made old Hollywood
Desk clerk in a big hotel
Where I write movies in my head all night
Just like Steinbeck in my mind
I'll tell of all my Okie brothers
Whose dreams fell down the old grapevine
Now the hands that picked the cotton
Lost to tractors and combines
Left our souls out in the orchards
Down below the old grapevine
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