“In school I read of men who died by the gun
But not of those who died by the hoe
The land has drunk the rains of many a farmer’s blood
Now forgotten and buried long ago”

“Where are the hands that plowed fields without sleep
Hands that saved a dying calf without rest
Where are the feet that walked down them hot dusty trails
On their way to seek their fortunes going west”

“And where are the fathers who died in the dust
And mothers who died hungry in the snow
And where are the kids that watched the banks plow their houses down
Those are the things I guess my teaches never knowed”

– Phil Ochs, Plains Of Nebrasky-O