Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
The oranges are stacked in their Creosote dumps
They’re flying them back to the Mexico border
To pay all their wages to wade back again
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 on the trucks till they took down and died
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita
Adios, mis amigos, Jesus and Maria
You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be «deportee.»
Somos ilegales y mal recibidos
(Well, some are illegal and some are not wanted)
Se a caba el contrato y de alli a caminar
(Our work contract’s out and we’ve got to move on)
Six hundred miles to that Mexico border
They chased us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves
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
The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
A fireball of lightning, it 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 best orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit—
To fall like dry leaves and rot on our topsoil
And be known by no name except «deportee?»