A5 ,                 D5 ,      G5 ,            A5 ,          D5 ,       G5 ,                        A5 , 
Shuddering his wife lay, hid in her bed.  As in fever her man rushed to the press,

                          D5 ,      G5 ,       A5 ,        D5 ,  A5 ,              D5 ,       A5 ,
grapes cryed and shrieked in the crush, his vine of rage, are the Grapes of Wrath,

D5 ,       A5 ,  E.  A5 ,     D5 , G5 ,                      A5 ,            D5 ,        G5 ,            A5 ,
His vine of rage,   Carts of iron rattled through his field, fish of steel had clogged his well,

           D5 ,      G5 ,                              A5 ,        D5 ,          A5 ,           D5 , A5 ,
time is harvest, time to harvest now he spoke.    His vines of rage are the Grapes of Wrath,

D5 ,          A5 , E5 ,                                                                   A5 , G5 , F5 , 
His vines of rage are the Grapes that become, the seeds of his Wrath.


A5 , G5 , F5 , 
And he learned, as he sows , so shall he reap.
A5 , G5 , F5 , 
A5 , G5 , F5 , 
Ah child its not a rave or a game,    Give us back our land