And the fruit boats ride on the waves,
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And the crew will dream of returning
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Back to the Florida waters,
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For the work of unloading onto the trains.
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And the ships will dance by the shore,
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With fruit from Venezuela, Brazil and Costa Rica,
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But the Fruit from the Island of Cuba
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is carried no more.
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And on the decks it will lay,
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Picked by the hands of the peons
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at the lowest possible wages,
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While the profits are made by the strangers
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from far away.
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Now some will pick the fruit of the vine
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While others will go to the mountain
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And eat the fruit of the hillside
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And learn the way of the rifle,
|
wait for the time.
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Allianza dollars are spent
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To raise the towering buildings
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For the weary bones of the workers
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So they will be strong in the morning
|
to go back again.
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Oh the companies keep a sharp eye
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And pay their respects to the army
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To watch for the hot-blooded leaders
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And be prepared for the junta to
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crush them like flies.
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So heavy the price that they pay
|
As daily the fruit it is stolen
|
Over the blue Carribean
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But the lengthening shadow of Cuba
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will hinder the way.
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(Repeat 1st verse)
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|
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United Fruit
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Phil Ochs |