Woody Guthrie/Martin Hoffman
|
|
The crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning.
|
The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps.
|
They're flying them back to the Mexico border
|
To take all their money to wade back again.
|
|
Chorus:
|
Goodbye to my Juan, farewell Roselita,
|
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria.
|
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane.
|
All they will call you is just deportee.
|
|
My father's own father, he waded that river.
|
They took all the money he made in his life.
|
It's six hundred miles to the Mexican border
|
And they chased him like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves.
|
|
The airplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
|
A great ball of fire that shook all the hills.
|
Who are these friends who are falling like dry leaves?
|
The radio said, "They're just deportees."
|
|
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
|
Is this the best way we can raise our good crops?
|
To fall like dry leaves and rot on our topsoil
|
And be known by no name except deportee.
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
-----------------
|
Deportee
|
| Kingston Trio |
