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| SOTM |
by Phoon |
2006-04-12 08:45:54 |
"Deportee"
lyrics by Woody Guthrie
performers unknown
"[1948:] FRESNO, Calif., Jan. 28 (AP). A chartered Immigration Service plane crashed and burned in west Fresno county this morning, killing 28 Mexican deportees, the crew, and an Immigration guard. The Mexicans were being flown to the deportation center in El Centro for return to their country. The plane, southbound from Oakland airport, appeared to explode before it plummeted to the ground."
They're flying 'em back to the Mexican border
To pay all their money to wade back again
"The crew, identified as Frank Atkinson, 32 years old, of Long Beach, the pilot; Mrs. Bobbie Atkinson, his wife, the stewardess, 28; and Marion Ewing of Balboa, the co-pilot, 33. The guard was Frank E. Chafin, of Berkeley."
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios, mis amigos Jesus y Maria
"The group also included Mexican nationals who had entered the United States illegally."
All they will call you will be 'deportees'
The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting
The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps
They're flying 'em back to the Mexican border
To pay all their money to wade back again
(chorus)
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita
Adios, mis amigos Jesus y Maria
You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane
All they will call you will be 'deportee'
My father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters found work in the fruit trees
And they rode the truck till they took down and died
(chorus)
Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted
Our work contract's out and we have to move on
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves
(chorus)
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
(chorus)
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
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 dry leaves to rot on our topsoil
And be called by no name except 'deportees'
(chorus) |
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