the crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning
the oranges are piled in their creosote dumps
they're flying them back to the mexico border
to take all their money to wade back again
goodbye to my juan
farewell roselita
adios mis amigos
jesus y maria
you won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
all they will call you is just deportee
my father's own father
he waded that river
they took all the money he made in his life
it's six hundred miles to the mexican border
and they chased him like rustlers
like outlaws
like thieves
the airplane caught fire over los gatos canyon
a great ball of fire that shook all the hills
who are these friends who are falling like dry leaves?
the radio said
they're just deportees"