(Woody GuthrieMartin Hoffman)

The crops are all in, the peaches are rotting

The oranges piled in their creosote dumps

They're flying us back to the Mexican border

To pay all our money just to wade back again



Some of us are illegal and some are not wanted

Our work contract's out and we have to move on

600 miles to that Mexican border

They chase us like outlaws, like thieves on the run



[Chorus:]

Goodbye to my Juan, good-bye Rosalita

Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria

You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane

All they will call you will be deportee



The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon

A fireball of lightning that shook all the hills

Who are these friends now all scattered like dry leaves?

The radio says they are just deportees



[Chorus]



We died in your hills, we died in your deserts

We died in your valleys and we 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



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 to rot on the topsoil

And be called by no name except

deportees?



[Chorus]