Deportee (Plane Wreck At Los Gatos) chords by Pete Seeger, Arlo Guthrie

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Verse 1
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This next song I'm going to sing is an old song,
not too old.
I sang it on the
Midnight
Special on that
NBC thing, and it never got on the air.
I never released it. I don't think it
was the song itself.
It was probably the introduction,
you know.
Well, before I sang the song, I said,
I was talking about little kids,
Because I got some.
And I was saying, must be strange to grow up
in this country and not know what a grape
looks like.
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Doesn't sound too subversive,
right?
Doesn't mean nothing.
Kicked it off the air though.
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The crops are all in, the peaches are rotting,
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the oranges are piled in their creosote dump.
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They're flyin' you back to the
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Mexico border
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To pay all your money to wait back again
My father's own father,
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he waded that river
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They took all the money he made in his life
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My brothers and sisters come
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working the fruit trees
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And they rode the trucks till they
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took down and died
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Goodbye to my
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Juan, goodbye
Rosalita
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Adios mi amigo,
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Jesus de
Maria
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You won't have a name when
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you ride the big airplane
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And all they will call you
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will be deportees
Some of us are illegal and
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others not wanted
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Our work contract's out
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and we have to move on
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Six hundred miles to the
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Mexico border
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They chase us like outlaws,
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like rustlers and thieves
We've died in your hills and we've
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died on your deserts
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We've died in your valleys,
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we've died on your plains
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We've died in your trees and
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we've died in your bushes
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Both sides of the river,
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we've died just the same
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Goodbye to my
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Juan, goodbye
Rosalita
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Adios, mi amigos, esus y
Maria
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You won't have a name when
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you ride the big airplane
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And all they will call you
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will be deportees
The sky plane caught fire over
Los
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Gatos
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Canyon
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Like a fireball of lightning,
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it shook all our hills
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And who are these friends, oh,
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scattered like dried leaves
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The radio says they are just de portees
Is this the best way we can
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grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can
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grow our good fruit?
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To fold like dry leaves and
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to rot on your topsoil
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And be known by no name
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except deportees
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Goodbye to my
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Juan, goodbye
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Rosalita, adios mi amigo
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Jesus y
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Maria, you won't have a name when you ride the big airplane,
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and all they will call you will be deportees.
applause
piano music