Deportees

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting,

The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps

They're flying 'em back to the Mexico border

To pay all their money just 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 come working the fruit trees,

they rode the trucks 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,

All they will call you will be "deportees"

Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,

Our work contract's out and we have to move on

It's 600 miles to that Mexico border,

They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

We died in your hills, we died in your deserts,

We died in your valleys and died on your plains.

We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes...

Both sides of the river, we died just the same.

The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,

A fireball of lightning that shook all our hills,s

Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves?

The radio says, "They are just deportees"

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 to rot on my topsoil...

And to be called by no name except "deportees"?