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The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting |
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The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps |
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You're flying them back to the mexican border |
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To pay all their money to wade back again |
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Goodbye to my juan, goodbye rosalita |
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Adios mis a-mi-gos, jesus and 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 deportee |
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Some of us are illegal and some of us are not wanted |
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Our work contract's out and we have to move on |
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But it's 600 miles to that mexican border |
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They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like theives |
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Goodbye to my juan, goodbye rosalita |
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Adios mis a-mi-gos, jesus and 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 deportee |
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My father's own father, waded that river |
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They took all the money he made in his life |
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My brothers and sister come work the fruit trees |
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They rode the truck til' they took down and died |
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The airplane caught fire over los gatos canyon |
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A fireball of lightning that shook all our hills |
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Who are these dear friends all scattered like dry leaves |
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The radio said they were just deportees |
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Goodbye to my juan, goodbye rosalita |
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Adios mis a-mi-gos, jesus and 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 deportee |
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No, all they will call you will be deportee |
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All they will call you will be deportee |
