Back to my roots on this one … I grew up in California and have fond memories of the amazing amount of food they grow there … but as I grew older I learned about the great migration of poor people who came to work the fields in hopes of a better life, and the economic slavery and environmental destruction that followed. Anyway, this is from the point of view of a poor fellow who comes down out of the Sierra Nevada in search of all that the central valley and San Francisco promise.
© 2014 Jonny Miller
Sebastopol
I’m going down to Roseville, just for the night.
I’ll be pushing west, come the morning light.
‘Cause there’s peaches out in Davis, and grapes in Sebastopol …
and they say the fog in San Francisco is nice and cool.
There’s not much going on, in Auburn Trails.
The river dried right up, and the crops all failed.
But there’s oranges ripe in Clarksburg, and a farm in San Rafael …
and they say the women in San Francisco sure treat you well.
All that I need is a blanket, and a pair of shoes.
You can come along with me, if you so choose.
I hear the corn is sweet in Dixon, and there’s olives in San Ramon …
and they say the streets of San Francisco are lined with gold.
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