Текст песни Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos) - Joan Baez, Emmylou Harris, Jackson Browne

Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting\nThe oranges are packed in the creosote dumps\nThey’re flying you back to the Mexico border\nTo pay all your money to wade back again\nGoodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita\nAdios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria\nYou won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane\nAll they will call you will be deportees\nMy father’s own father, he waded that river\nThey took all the money he made in his life\nMy brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees\nThey rode the big trucks till they lay down and die\nGoodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita\nAdios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria\nYou won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane\nAll they will call you will be deportees\nThe skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon\nA fireball of lightning, and it shook all the hills\nWho are these comrades that died like the dry leaves\nThe radio tells me they’re just deportees\nGoodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita\nAdios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria\nYou won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane\nAll they will call you will be deportees\nWe died in your hills and we died in your deserts\nWe died in your valleys we died on your plains\nWe died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes\nBoth sides of the river we died just the same\nGoodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita\nAdios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria\nYou won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane\nAll they will call you will be deportees\nSome of us are illegal, and others not wanted\nOur work contract’s out and we have to move on\nBut it’s six hundred miles to that Mexican border\nThey chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.\nGoodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita\nAdios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria\nYou won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane\nAll they will call you will be deportees\nIs this the best way we can grow our big orchards\nIs this the best way we can grow our good fruit\nTo fall like dry leaves and rot on the top soil\nand be called by no name except «deportee»\nGoodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita\nAdios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria\nYou won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane\nAll they will call you will be deportees