And the fruit boats ride on the waves,

And the crew will dream of returning

Back to the florida waters,

For the work of unloading onto the trains.



And the ships will dance by the shore,

With fruit from venezuela, brazil and costa rica,

But the fruit from the island of cuba

Is carried no more.



And on the decks it will lay,

Picked by the hands of the peons

At the lowest possible wages,

While the profits are made by the strangers

From far away.



Now some will pick the fruit of the vine

While others will go to the mountain

And eat the fruit of the hillside

And learn the way of the rifle,

Wait for the time.



Allianza dollars are spent

To raise the towering buildings

For the weary bones of the workers

So they will be strong in the morning

To go back again.



Oh the companies keep a sharp eye

And pay their respects to the army

To watch for the hot-blooded leaders

And be prepared for the junta to

Crush them like flies.



So heavy the price that they pay

As daily the fruit it is stolen

Over the blue carribean

But the lengthening shadow of cuba

Will hinder the way.



(repeat 1st verse)




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