...setting...round 1850...
...point of view...a traveling migrant worker...

im on my way to californ-i-a, hopin for a job with good pay
gettin old and gray, lookin for a nice place that i could stay
i arrive at half past five, realizing the place is old and deprived
the owner's survived so all it really needs is to be revived
i politely knock on the door as i patienlty await my first chore
my hands are sore but he said to pick fruit cause i done it before
passing by other workers as i headed out to start on the field
thinkin that after the oranges are picked they still gotta be peeled
clutchin my bucket i sigh in despair, and utter a humble prayer
this seems unfair, but no one cares about my burden to bare
swearin and cussing the whole time until i finally got there
unaware of all the other workers who had stopped to stare
embarressed, i remained silent and went on without comment
then returned around dusk to find that the boss was discontent
he called me inside his office because he said we needed to talk
i was completely nervous...my calloused hands shaked as i walked
"ive heard a rumor, are you unhappy working here old man?"
what?!...how in the world did he know?!.. i couldnt understand

the next day i was kicked out with out remorse or hesitation
aparently theres to be no disgrunteld employees pickin vegatation
quickly glancin back at the front sign as the sun began to shine
i saw about nine migrant workers, waving, standin in a line
then i knew the owner had heard it from the workers of the grapevine

..that is how the term "from the grapevine" started...

...believe it or not...

__________________
I tried to rewind time but my hindsight is blind