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Tom: Bb
Bb Eb Bb
The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
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The oranges piled in their creosote dumps
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You're flying them back to the Mexican border
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To pay all their money, to wade back again
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Goodbye to my Juan, good-bye Rosalita
F Bb
Adios mes amigos, Jesus and Maria
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You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane
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All they will call you will be deportee
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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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Six hundred miles to that Mexican border
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They chase us like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves
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Goodbye to my Juan, good-bye Rosalita
F Bb
Adios mes amigos, Jesus and Maria
Eb Bb
You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane
F Bb
All they will call you will be deportee
Eb Bb
The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon
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A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills
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Who are all these friends, all are fallin' dry leaves?
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The radio says they are just deportees
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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 crops?
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To fall like like dry leaves and rot on my topsoil
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And to be called no name, except deportee
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Goodbye to my Juan, good-bye Rosalita
F Bb
Adios mes amigos, Jesus and Maria
Eb Bb
You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane
F Bb
All they will call you will be deportee