By Merle Haggard Tulare dust in a farm boy?s nose   Wonderin where the freight train goes Standin in a field by the railroad tracks   Cursin the strap on my cotton sack I can see mom and dad with shoulders low Both of them pickin on a double row They do it for a livin because they must That?s life like it is on the Tulare dust The California sun was something new That winter we arrived in 42 And I can still remember how my Daddy cussed The tumbleweeds here in the Tulare dust Instrumental The valley fever was a common fate To the farm workers here in the golden state And I miss Oklahoma but I?ll stay if I must And help make a livin in the Tulare dust Repeat 1st verse