Intro: D G/B Cadd9 G/B D (2x)
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In October we will come, a hundred and fifty thousand strong,
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When the picking's over, we'll be gone, they call us the har - vest gypsies!
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We only come be - cause we must, we are driven here by dust,
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And they won't even look at us, they call us the har - vest gypsies!
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And the hardest that it's ever been, I sold my blankets for gaso - line,
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And it's only hunger I have seen, now I'm a har - vest gypsy!
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And there's apricots in Santa Clare, at Kern County they have apples there,
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And grapes they're growing every - where, all for the har - vest gypsies!
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In a walnut grove I met a man, who lost his child be - fore San Fran',
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We're strangers they don't un - derstand, we are the har - vest gypsies!
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And the gondalas and railway lines, filled with men when it is time,
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Drawn by the orange and the lime, all the har - vest gypsies!
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They hate it when their taxes rise, and the squatter camps that they des - pise,
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With - out us they would rot and die, without the har - vest gypsies!
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And the Holbrook's, we were farming men, and I dream, one day, we will a - gain,
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To miss the soil's a curious pain, when you're a har - vest gypsy!
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||: Oh---oh, oh, oh, oh! /___/ /___/ /___/ :|| x3
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When you're a harvest gypsy, yeah - eah!
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||: Oh---oh, oh, oh, oh! /___/ /___/ /___/ :|| x3
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When you're a harvest gyp - sy!