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Christy Moore
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The peaches are in and the crops they lie rotten The oranges are stacked in their creosote dumps They're driving us back to the Mexican border It takes all our money to go back again My father's own father did [?] through that river You took all the money he made in his life These sisters and brothers they worked in your fruit field They rode in your trucks till they lay down and died Goodbye to my friеnds, goodbye Rosalita Adios mes amigos, Jesus е Maria You won't have a name when you ride the big aeroplane All they will call you will be deportee Some of us are illegal and most are not wanted Our work contracts sold and we must move on The six hundred miles to the Mexican border You drive us like outlaws like rustlers like thieves Goodbye to my friends, goodbye Rosalita Adios mes amigos, Jesus e Maria You won't have a name when you ride the big aeroplane All they will call you will be deportee The sky plane caught fire o'er the Los Gatos valley Like a fireball of lightning it plunged to the ground Who are those friends lying round like dead leaves? The radio said they were just deportees We died in your trees and we died in your valleys We died on your mountains and died on your plains We died 'neath your trees and we died 'neath your bushes Both sides of the border we died just the same Goodbye to my friends, goodbye Rosalita Adios mes amigos, Jesus e Maria You won't have a name when you ride the big aeroplane All they will call you will be deportee
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