| D | G | D | |
| The | crops are all in and the | peaches are | rotting |
| D | A7 | D | |
| The | oranges piled in their cr | eosote | dumps |
| G | D | |
| You're | flying them back to the | Mexican border |
| D | A7 | D | |
| To pay all | their money, to | wade back ag | ain |
| CHORUS: (After each verse) |
| G | D | |
| Good | bye to my Juan, good- | bye Rosalita |
| D | D | |
| Adi | os mes amigos, Jes | us and Maria |
| G | D | |
| You | won't have your names when you | ride the big airplane |
| A7 | D | |
| All they will call you will | be deport | ee |
| 2. My Father's 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 |
| And they rode the truck till they took down and died |
| 3. Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted |
| Our work contracts out and we have to move on |
| Six hundred miles to that Mexican border |
| They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves |
| 4. We died in your hills, we died in your deserts |
| We died in your valleys, and died on your plains |
| We died 'neath your trees, and we died in your bushes |
| Both sides of the river, we died just the same |
| 5. The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon |
| A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills |
| Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves? |
| The radio says they are just deportees |
| 6. 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 like dry leaves, to rot on my topsoil |
| And to be called no name, except deportee. |
| Ted Hermary czth@musica.mcgill.ca |