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Correct Plane Wreck At Los Gatos (Deportee) Lyrics
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Artists: J
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Joan Baez
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Correct Plane Wreck At Los Gatos (Deportee)
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DEPORTEES (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos) Words by Woody Guthrie, music by Martin Hoffman The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting The oranges are packed in the creosote dumps They're flying you back to the Mexico border To pay all your money to wade back again Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye 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 deportees 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 They rode the big trucks till they lay down and die Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye 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 deportees The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon A fireball of lightning, and it shook all the hills Who are these comrades that died like the dry leaves The radio tells me they're just deportees Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye 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 deportees We died in your hills and we died in 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 the river we died just the same Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye 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 deportees Some of us are illegal, and others not wanted Our work contract's out and we have to move on But it's six hundred miles to that Mexican border They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves. Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye 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 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 the top soil And be called by no name except "deportee" Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye 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 deportees
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