| The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
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| The oranges are packed in the creosote dumps
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| They’re flying you back to the Mexico border
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| To pay all your money to wade back again
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| Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
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| Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
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| You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane
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| All they will call you will be deportees
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| My father’s own father, he waded that river
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| They took all the money he made in his life
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| My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees
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| They rode the big trucks till they lay down and die
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| 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
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| A fireball of lightning, and it shook all the hills
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| Who are these comrades that died like the dry leaves
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| The radio tells me they’re just deportees
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| 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
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| We died in your valleys we died on your plains
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| We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes
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| Both sides of the river we died just the same
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| 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
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| Our work contract’s out and we have to move on But it’s six hundred miles to that Mexican border
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| They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.
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| 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
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| Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit
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| To fall like dry leaves and rot on the top soil
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| And be called by no name except «deportee»
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| 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 |