PLANE WRECK AT LOS GATOS (A.K.A. “Deportee”)

Woody Guthrie

VERSE: 
DThe crops are all in and the Gpeaches are Drotting
DThe oranges piled in their Gcreosote  Ddumps
GYou’re flying them back to the D Mexican border
DTo pay all their wages, to Gwade back Dagain

CHORUS: (After each verse)
GGoodbye to my Juan, good-Dbye Rosalita
A7Adios mes amigos, DJesus and Maria
GYou won’t have your names when you Dride the big airplane
DAll they will call you will Gbe deporDtee

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.