Deportees

(Plane Wreck At Los Gatos)

Words by Woody Guthrie, Music by Martin Hoffman © 1961 (renewed) TRO-Ludlow Music Inc

Rolling Thunder Revue 2, Fort Collins CO - 23.may.1976  

The crops are all in an' the peaches are rottenin'
The oranges are piled in the 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 an' 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 brothers an' sisters came work in the fruit trees
They rode that truck till they went down an' died.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus an' Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees.

The sky plane cought fire over Los Gatos canyon
A fireball of lightnin', an' shook all the hills
Who are all these comrades that died like dry leaves
The radio tells me they're just deportees.

We died in your hills an' we died in your deserts
We died in your valleys an' we died in your plains
We died neath your trees an' we died neath your bushes
Both sides ot the river, we died just the same.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus an' Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be deportees.

Is this the best way we can grow big orchards
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruits
To die like dry leaves, to rot on the topsail
An' be all known by no names except deportees.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus an' Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airpalne
All they will call you will be deportees
All they will call you will be deportees.