Deportee
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The crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning
The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps
You're flyin' 'em back to the Mexican border
It takes all their money to wade back again
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be "deportees"
My father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My sisters and brothers come workin' the fruit fields
Rode that truck till they took down and died
Some of us are illegal and others not wanted
Our work contract's out and we have to move on
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
For all they will call you will be "deportees"
The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
A fireball of lightning and shook all our hills
Who are all these dear friends, all scattered like dry leaves?
The radio says, "They are just deportees"
Is this the best way we can raise our good orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good crops?
To die and be scattered, to rot on the topsoil
To be called by no name except "deportees"
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be "deportees"