Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free?
That's a place where I think you ought to go
Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky,
On the great plains of Old Nebrasky-O.
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.
Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free?
That's a place where I think you ought to go
Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky,
On the great plains of Old Nebrasky-O.
Now you tell me droughts hurt only corn and not men,
You smile and say hard times have gone away;
I guess I should listen to my city politician
Who keeps tellin’ me that these are better days.
Is there anybody left to walk a muddy mile
Is courage a word that's only said?
Is it true them dusty days are days that never really were
But are only tales in books to be read?
Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free?
That's a place where I think you ought to go
Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky,
On the great plains of Old Nebrasky-O.
That's a place where I think you ought to go
Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky,
On the great plains of Old Nebrasky-O.
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.
Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free?
That's a place where I think you ought to go
Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky,
On the great plains of Old Nebrasky-O.
Now you tell me droughts hurt only corn and not men,
You smile and say hard times have gone away;
I guess I should listen to my city politician
Who keeps tellin’ me that these are better days.
Is there anybody left to walk a muddy mile
Is courage a word that's only said?
Is it true them dusty days are days that never really were
But are only tales in books to be read?
Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free?
That's a place where I think you ought to go
Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky,
On the great plains of Old Nebrasky-O.
×
![]()
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.
