Times A-Getting Hard - Harry Belafonte

Times are getting' hard boys

Money’s getting' scarce

If times don’t get no better boys

Gonna leave this place

Take my true love by the hand

Lead her from the town

Say goodbye to ev’ryone

Goodbye to ev’ryone

Take my bible from the bed

Shotgun from the wall

Take old Sal and hitch her up

The wagon for to haul

Pile the chairs and beds on high

Let nothing touch the ground

Sal can pull and we can push

We’re bound to leave this town

Made a crop a year ago

It withered to the ground

Tried to get some credit

But the man he turned me down

Goin' to California

Where everything is green

Gonna have the best old farm

That you have ever seen.