![]() Woody Guthrie* - B.R. Hoffman - >>> Arlo Guthrie The (E)crops are all in and the (A)peaches are (E)rottnin The oranges are stuck in their (A)creosote (E)dumps Theyre (A)flyingem back to that (E)Mexico (C#m)border To (E)pay all their wages to (A)wade back (E)again Good(A)bye to Juan, goodbye (E)Rosalita A(B7)dios, mi amigo, (E)Jesus an Maria You (A)wont have a name when you (E)ride the big (C#m)airplane And (E)all they will call you will (A)be depor(E)tee My fathers 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 An they rode on the trucks till they took down and died Well, some are illegal and some are not wanted Our work contracts out and weve got to move on Six hundred miles to that Mexico border They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves We died in your hills and we died on your deserts We died in your valleys, we died on your plains We died neath your trees and we died in your bushes Both sides of that river, we died just the same The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon Like a fireball of lightnin and shook all our hills 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 and rot on my topsoil An be known by no name except deportee ![]() |