D                       G           D
    The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting,
                                     G        D
    the oranges are packed in their creosote dumps.
             G                      D     Bm
    They're flying 'me back to the Mexico border,
        D            Bm       G          D
    to pay all your money to wade back again.

        D                       G          D
    My father's own father, he waded that river,
                                G          D
    they took all the money he made in his life.
         G                        D          Bm
    My brothers and sisters came workin' the fruit trees,
     D            Bm                G             D
   they rode the trucks 'till they laid down and died.

     G                   D
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita,
   A                 D      D7
adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria.
     G                          D            Bm
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane,
    D             Bm            G         D
and all they will call you will be "deportees."

     D                        G          D
   Some of us are eager, and others not wanted,
                                 G          D
   a work contract's out, he he has to move on.
     G                        D      Bm
    Six hundred miles to the Mexico border,
           D            Bm              G             D
    they chased us like outlaws, like wrestlers and thieves.

        D                          G           D
    We died in your hills and we died on your deserts,
                                 G             D
    we died in your valleys, we died on your plains.
            G                      D           Bm
    We died in your trees and we died in your bushes,
          D          Bm        G             D
   both sides of the river we died just the same.

          D                        G         D
    The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
                                      G           D
    a fireball of lightnin' an' it shook all the hills.
     G                               D             Bm
    Who are these comrades, they're dying like the dry leaves?
         D     Bm               G         D
    The radio  says, "They are just deportees."

         D                       G            D
    Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
                                  G             D
    Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
        G                            D          Bm
    To fall like the dry leaves and rot on your topsoil,
        D          Bm          G          D
    and be known by no name except "deportees."