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    The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
    The oranges are packed in their creosote dumps
    They're flying 'em back to that Mexico border
    To take all their money 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 the big trucks till they lay down and died

    Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
    Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
    You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
    And all they will call you will be deportee

    Some of us are illegal, and all are not wanted
    Our work contract's out and we've got to move on
    Six hundred miles to that Mexican border
    They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves

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    We died in your hills, we died in your deserts
    We died in your armies, we died on your plains
    We died 'neath your trees and we died 'neath those bushes
    Both sides of that 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
    And all they will call you will be deportee

    The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
    Like a fireball of lightning, it shook all our hills
    Who are all these friends, dying like dry leaves?
    The radio says they are just 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 my topsoil
    And be known 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
    And all they will call you will be deportee

    Song details

    Composition: Martin Hoffman and Woody Guthrie

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