[D]The crops are all in and the pe[G]aches are ro[D]tting
The oranges are packed in their c[A7]reosote d[D]umps[D7]
You're f[G]lying them back to the Mex[D]ican border
To spend all their money, to w[A7]ade back ag[D]ain[D7]
CHORUS:
Goodb[G]ye to my Juan, good-b[D]ye Rosalita
Adi[A7]os mes amigos, Jes[D]us y Ma[D7]ria
You w[G]on't have a name when you ri[D]de the big airplane
And all they will call you will [A7]be depor[D]tee
Some of us are illegal, and others not wanted
Our work contracts out and we've got to move on
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves...CHORUS
The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon
A fireball of lightning, that shook all our hills
Who are all these friends who are scattered like dry leaves?
The radio said they were just deportees...CHORUS TWICE
EXTRA VERSES:
My Father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees
And they rode the truck till they took down and died ...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
NOTE: I got most of this from the lyrics archives under Woody Guthrie.
It is a Guthrie song, but I figure Byrds fans might like it too. The
Byrds only sang the first three verses, but I thought I'd include all the
ones in Guthrie's version.
(from The Ballad of Easy Rider, 1969)
(sent by Harlan at [email protected])
The oranges are packed in their c[A7]reosote d[D]umps[D7]
You're f[G]lying them back to the Mex[D]ican border
To spend all their money, to w[A7]ade back ag[D]ain[D7]
CHORUS:
Goodb[G]ye to my Juan, good-b[D]ye Rosalita
Adi[A7]os mes amigos, Jes[D]us y Ma[D7]ria
You w[G]on't have a name when you ri[D]de the big airplane
And all they will call you will [A7]be depor[D]tee
Some of us are illegal, and others not wanted
Our work contracts out and we've got to move on
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves...CHORUS
The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon
A fireball of lightning, that shook all our hills
Who are all these friends who are scattered like dry leaves?
The radio said they were just deportees...CHORUS TWICE
EXTRA VERSES:
My Father's own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees
And they rode the truck till they took down and died ...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
NOTE: I got most of this from the lyrics archives under Woody Guthrie.
It is a Guthrie song, but I figure Byrds fans might like it too. The
Byrds only sang the first three verses, but I thought I'd include all the
ones in Guthrie's version.
(from The Ballad of Easy Rider, 1969)
(sent by Harlan at [email protected])
