He walked all over his own growin' land
From the New York island to the California sands.
He saw all the people that needed to be seen,
Planted all the grass where there needed to be green.And now he's bound for a glory all his own,
And now he's bound for glory.He wrote and he sang and he rode upon the rails,
And he got on board when the sailors had to sail.
He said all the words that needed to be said,
Fed all the hungry souls that needed to be fed.And now he's bound for a glory all his own,
And now he's bound for glory.He sang in our streets and he sang in our halls,
And he was always there when the unions gave a call.
He did all the jobs that needed to be done,
And he always stood his ground when smaller men would run.And now he's bound for a glory all his own,
And now he's bound for glory.And it's "Pastures of Plenty" wrote the Dust Bowl Balladeer,
And "This is Your Land," he wanted us to hear.
The rising of the unions will be sung again,
And the Deportees" live on through the power of his pen.And now he's bound for a glory all his own,
And now he's bound for glory.Now they sing out his praises on every distant shore,
But so few remember what he was fightin' for.
Oh why sing the songs and forget about the aim,
He wrote them for a reason, why not sing them for the same?And now he's bound for a glory all his own,
And now he's bound for glory.
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