He walked all over his own growin' land From the New York island to the California sand He saw all the people that needed to be seen Planted all the grass where there needed to be green And now he's bound for a glory, all his own And now he's bound for glory He wrote and he sang and he rode upon the rails And he got on board when the sailors had to sail He said all the words that needed to be said He fed all the hungry souls that needed to be fed And now he's bound for a glory, all his own And now he's bound for glory He sang in our streets and he sang in our halls And he was always there when the unions gave a call He did all the jobs that needed to be done And he always stood his ground when a smaller man would run And now he's bound for a glory, all his own And now he's bound for glory ♪ And it's "Pastures of Plenty" wrote the Dust Bowl balladeer And "This Land is Your Land", he wanted us to hear And the risin' of the unions will be sung about again Deportees live on through the power of his pen And now he's bound for a glory, all his own And now he's bound for glory Now they sing out his praises on every distant shore But so few remember what he was fightin' for Oh, why sing the songs and forget about the aim? He wrote them for a reason, why not sing them for the same? For now he's bound for a glory, all his own And now he's bound for glory