Image & caption:  Drought refugees from Oklahoma camping by the roadside. They hope to work in the cotton fields. There are seven in family. Blythe, California   Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information Black and White Negatives, U.S. Library of Congress LC-USF34-T01-009666-E         

Lyrics:

Walk in my shoes for a day and you’d demand jobs right away
For every father who’s heard his hungry child cry
When you’ve felt the pain a poor man knows
Of begging “Mr. Banker, please don’t foreclose”—
When you already know what the Banker Man’s gonna say

I’m just one more idled man
Who once made a living with his two hands
‘Til the Boss Man he said “Son be on your way—
We’re much obliged, and your work’s been fine,
But today we’re shutting down the line”
I can hardly remember the last time I drew pay
I can hardly remember the last time I drew pay

Now it’s all well and good to be born to wealth
Hell, I wouldn’t mind trying it for myself
But the fact is sir that you can’t know
The half of what’s wrong with the status quo
‘Til you know what it is to be discarded
Homeless, helpless and broken-hearted
That’s when you’ll feel in your bones
What’s happenin’ just ain’t right
Try a day in my life, Mr. Hoover—you’ll see the light
Try a day in my life, Mr. Hoover—you’ll see the light

Walk a mile in my shoes and sir I’d bet that you would choose
To find a way to lend us working folks a hand
When you’ve felt for yourself that it’s damn tiring
To be looking for work when no one’s hiring
Everywhere you roam in this hard land
I’m just the millionth mother’s son
Brung low since this hard time’s begun
When the bottom fell out through no fault of our own
And when know firsthand how that makes a man feel
You’ll swear it’s high time for a New Deal—
To find every man some hope, a job, a home
To find every man some hope, a job, and a home