My driftin' memory goes back to the spring of '43

When I was just a child in Mama's arms

My Daddy plowed the ground and prayed

that some day he could leave

This run down mortgaged workload of a farm.



Then one night I heard my Daddy saying to my Mama

That he'd finally saved enough to go

California was his dream for paradise that he had seen

In pictures in magazines that told him so



California Cotton fields

Where labor towns were filled with great men with broken dreams

California cotton fields

As close to wealth as Daddy ever came



Almost everything we had was sold or left behind

From Daddy's belt to the fruit that Mama canned

Some folks came to say farewell and to see what all we had to sell

Some just came to shake my Daddy's hand.



The Model A was loaded down and California bound

And good luck was just about four days away

The only change that I recall happening to my Daddy

Was when his dark hair turned to silver gray.