DEPORTEE
(PLANE WRECK AT LOS GATOS)
The crops are all in, the peaches are rotting
The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps
They're flying you back to the Mexico border
To pay all your money to wade back again
My father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters they work in the fruit trees
They rode the truck 'till they took down and died
Good-bye to my Juan, Good-bye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus e Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be "deportee"
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 the Mexican border
They chase us like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves
We died in your hills
The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps
They're flying you back to the Mexico border
To pay all your money to wade back again
My father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters they work in the fruit trees
They rode the truck 'till they took down and died
Good-bye to my Juan, Good-bye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus e Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be "deportee"
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 the Mexican border
They chase us like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves
We died in your hills
We died on your deserts
We've died in your mountains, and died on your plains
We've died 'neath your trees
We've died in your mountains, and died on your plains
We've died 'neath your trees
And we've died in your bushes
Both sides of the river, we've died just the same
Both sides of the river, we've died just the same
Good-bye to my Juan, Good-bye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus e Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be "deportee"
The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
A fireball of lightning that shook all our hills
Who were all these dear friends
Adios mis amigos, Jesus e Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be "deportee"
The skyplane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon
A fireball of lightning that shook all our hills
Who were all these dear friends
All scattered like dry leaves?
The radio says they were just deportees
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
And is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves and rot on the top soil
And be known by no name except "deportee"
Good-bye to my Juan, Good-bye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus e Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be "deportee"
The radio says they were just deportees
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
And is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves and rot on the top soil
And be known by no name except "deportee"
Good-bye to my Juan, Good-bye Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, Jesus e Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be "deportee"
DEPORTADO
(ACCIDENTE DE AVIÓN EN LOS GATOS)
Toda la fruta recogida, los melocotones se pudren
Las naranjas apiladas en basureros de creosota
Te devuelven en un vuelo a la frontera de México
Y pagas todo tu dinero por cruzar el río de nuevo
El padre de mi propio padre, atravesó ese río
Le quitaron todo el dinero que ahorró en su vida
Mis hermanos y hermanas trabajan en los frutales
Se subían al camión hasta que se caían y morían
Hasta siempre, Juan, hasta siempre, Rosalita
Adiós mis amigos, Jesús y María
No tendréis nombre alguno al embarcar en aquel avión
Y lo único que os llamarán será “deportado”
Algunos somos ilegales, a los demás no nos buscan
El contrato de trabajo expiró y tenemos que avanzar
Seiscientas millas hasta la frontera mexicana
Nos persiguen como a bandidos, a forajidos, a ladrones
Morimos en las colinas
Morimos en los desiertos
Morimos en las montañas y morimos en las llanuras
Morimos bajo los árboles
Y morimos entre los arbustos
En ambas orillas del río, morimos de igual forma
Hasta siempre, Juan, hasta siempre, Rosalita
Adiós mis amigos, Jesús y María
No tendréis nombre alguno al embarcar en aquel avión
Y lo único que os llamarán será “deportado”
El aeroplano se incendió sobre el Cañón de Los Gatos
Una bola de fuego brillante se estrelló en las colinas
¿Quiénes fueron esos queridos amigos
Esparcidos como hojas secas?
La radio dijo que eran “simples deportados”
¿Es este el mejor camino para cultivar nuestros huertos?
¿Es este el mejor camino para conseguir buenos frutos?
Para caer como hojas secas y pudrirse en el suelo
Y recordarlos sin otro nombre más que “deportado”
Hasta siempre, Juan, hasta siempre, Rosalita
Adiós mis amigos, Jesús y María
No tendréis nombre alguno al embarcar en aquel avión
Y lo único que os llamarán será “deportado”
* Original de Wooody Guthrie de 1940, interpretada por Springsteen por primera vez el 28 de agosto de 1981. Fue interpretada en varias ocasiones más durante la gira en solitario de The Ghost Of Tom Joad en 1996. Se publicó oficialmente en el disco Til We Out Number Em, tributo de varios artistas a Woody Guthrie celebrado en Cleveland en septiembre de 1996, en una versión reducida (esta letra corresponde a la versión completa del tema).
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