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_PLANE WRECK AT LOS GATOS_
(F.K.F. "Deportee")
VERSE:
The Ccrops are all in and the Fpeaches are Crotting
(C) G7 C
The oranges piled in their creosote dumps
You're Fflying them back to the CMexican border
(C) G7 C
To pay all their money, to wade back again
CHORUS: (After each verse)
GoodFbye to my Juan, good-Cbye Rosalita
AdiCos mes amigos, JesCus and Maria
You Fwon't have your names when you Cride the big airplane
All they will call you will G7be deportCee
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.
Ted Hermary czth@musica.mcgill.ca