The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
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The oranges are filed in their creosote dumps
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They're flying 'em back to the Mexico border
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To take all their money to wade back again
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Goodbye to my Juan, farewell Roselita
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Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
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You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
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All they will call you will be deportees
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My father's own father, he waded that river
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They took all the money he made in his life
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It's six hundred miles to the Mexico border
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And they chased them like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves
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The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
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The great ball of fire it shook all our hills
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Who are these dear friends who are falling like dry leaves?
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Radio said, "They are just deportees"
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Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
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Is this the best way we can raise our good crops?
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To fall like dry leaves and rot on out topsoil
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And be known by no names except "deportees"
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Deportee (Plane Wreck At Los Gatos)
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| The Byrds |
