Still working on recording this one

Image: Workers at apple packinghouse. Camden County, New Jersey  U.S. Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information Black & White Photographs LC-USF34- 026633-D

Lyrics:

I raise the basket to my shoulder so I can make my way
Downtown from the Bowery where I spend each day
Pocketknife to cut a sample—handbill on the wall
Selling apples on the corner, just five cents each that’s all

See in 1929 sir when they shut the factory’s door
They said “you didn’t do a bad job, son—
Just ain’t no jobs here anymore.”
Now I don’t mean to complain, sir, see I’m grateful for a way
For a man to do a hard day’s work to earn a fair day’s pay
That’s why I get here early to pick the freshest of the lot
Grab a coffee from the breadline and stake out my favorite spot

Still some days you bring home pennies
Just once—imagine that—a buck
You never know what you’re in for
When you help unload that truck
When it’s an hour south of sunrise
And you’re shivering in the dark
But it’s the best a man can do sir
When there ain’t no other work

Still I hold to hope and faith sir
Someday these hard times will end
Till then come find me selling apples here
Just a nickel for you my friend