Deportee

well the crops are all in
and the peaches are rotting
and the oranges piled up
in their creosote dumps
they're flying 'em back
to the Mexican border
to pay all their money to wade back again
my father's own father
he waded that river
they took all the money he made in his life
my brothers and sisters came working the fruit trees
and they rode on the truck till they took down and died
goodbye to my Juan
goodbye Rosalita
adios, mis amigos
Jesus y Maria
you won't have your names when you ride the big airplane
and all they will call you will be 'deportees'
now some of us are illegal
some are not wanted
our work contract's run out and we have to move on
it's six hundred miles to that Mexican border
they chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves
and we die in your hills
and we die in your deserts
and we die in your valleys
we die on the plains
and we die 'neath your trees
and we die in your bushes
both sides of that river we died just the same
yeah, we died
goodbye to my Juan...
now the sky-plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon
was a fireball of lightning that salted our hills
now who are all these friends
they're all scattered like dry leaves
the radio says the are just deportees
now is this the best way we can grow our big orchards
is this the best way we can grow our good fruit
to fall like dry leaves and to rot on my topsoil
and be called by no name except 'deportees'
goodbye to my Juan
goodbye Rosalita
Adios, mis amigos
Jesus y Maria
you won't have your names when you ride the big airplane
and all they will call you will be 'deportees'
all they will call you will be 'deportees'
all they will call you will be 'deportees'