The decade of Great Depression pains,
Was also a period of no rains,
For the central agriculture plains.
Bringing severe drought to a fertile land,
A land made by God's hand,
A land man took as his land.
A robust and trusted land,
A fertile land used by an unknowing man,
Yet to understand the care of this land.
By his own hand,
Man stripped the land,
Creating a barren land.
This land could no longer its soil retain,
Nature turned against man,
Bringing drought to the land.
Strong dry winds came to reign,
Winds of destruction stripping the terrain.
Robbing soil from the barren land.
Crops the plains could no longer maintain,
Winds stripping away seed grains,
Unrelenting dust clouds passing like a train.
Man could not withstand,
His unknowing hand,
Forcing him from this land.
A people already depression beaten back,
Clothed in flour sacks, housed in shacks,
Caught by this second disaster track.
Without means to sustain and come back,
A disgusted and busted man,
Cussed this land.
Dust Bowl man,
Left the land unmanned,
Refugee of his own hand.