I should know to leave them home.
They follow me through the store
with these toys I can't afford.
"Kids, take them back,
you know better than that."
Dolls that talk, astronauts,
TV games, airplanes,
They don't understand
and how can I explain?
I try and try but I can't save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
I've tried and tried but I can't save.

My youngest girl has a bad fever, sure.
All night with alcohol to cool and rub her down.
Ruby, I'm tired, try and get some sleep.
I'm adding doctor's fees to remedies
with the cost of three day's work lost.
I try and try but I can't save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
I've tried and tried but I can't save.
The hole in my pocket is growing.

There's a new wind blowing they say,
it's gonna be a cold, cold one.
So brace yourselves, my darlings,
it won't bring much our way
but more dust bowl days.

I played a card in this week's game.
Took the first and the last letters in three of their names.
This lottery's been building up for weeks.
I could be lucky me with the five million prize,
tears of disbelief spilling out of my eyes.
I try and try but I can't save.
Pennies, nickels, dollars slip away.
The hole in my pocket is growing.

There's a new wind blowing they say,
it's gonna be a cold, cold one.
So brace yourselves my darlings,
it won't bring anything much our way
but more dust bowl days.
 

(The main character of "Dust Bowl," in the song's final verse,
imagines winning her state lottery's five million prize."
It is a fantasy of success that brings "tears of disbelief
spilling out of my eyes."
During the Depression, both of Natalie Merchant's
grandparents worked for the New Deal's Works Progress
Administration (WPA). "Any time I would see a public-
works project that had been executed during the Depression,"
she said, "I felt like our government stretched out its hands
and said, in a very paternal sense, "We are the government -
and we care for you. You are the people and we will help
you recover from this disaster.'")
 

Dust Storm Disaster
By Woody Guthrie

On the fourteenth day of April of nineteen thirty five,
There struck the worst of duststorms that ever filled the sky:
You could see that dust storm coming the cloud looked deathlike black,
And through our mighty nation, it left a dreadful track.

From Oklahoma city to the Arizona line,
Dakota and Nebraska to the lazy Rio Grande,
It fell across our city like a curtain of black rolled down,
We thought it was our judgement, we thought it was our doom.

The radio reported, we listened with alarm,
The wild and windy actions of this great mysterious storm;
From Albuquerque and Clovis, and all New Mexico,
They said it was the blackest that ever they had saw.

From old Dodge City, Kansas, the dust had rung their knell,
And a few more comrades sleeping on top of old Boot Hill.
From Denver, Colorado, they said it blew so strong,
They thought that they could hold out, but didn't know how long.

Our relatives were huddled into their oil boom shacks,
And the children they was crying as it whistled through the cracks.
And the family it was crowded into their little room,
They thought the world had ended, they thought it was their doom.

This storm took place at sundown and lasted through the night,
When we looked out this morning we saw a terrible sight:
We saw outside our windows where wheat fields they had grown
Was now a rippling ocean of dust the wind had blown.

It covered up our fences, it covered up our barns,
It covered up our tractors in this wild and windy storm.
We loaded our jalopies and piled our families in,
We rattled down the highway to never come back again.