Where the Berries Grow

Where the Berries Grow

Somewhere not that far away
Someone’s madre picks a row
In a town by Monterey
Where the berries grow

And every padre has a hunch
From all his time bent low
Tamales from a cart for lunch
Where the berries grow

Where the berries grow
Where the berries grow
Down an old forgotten road
Where the berries grow

Folks who seldom taste the fruit
Of the seed their labors sow
Pray to God their dreams will root
Where the berries grow

Though not many fortunes earned
Make it back to Mexico
Each able body takes its turn
Where the berries grow

Where the berries grow
Where the berries grow
Down an old forgotten road
Where the berries grow

Hard to say if the man who pays
Sometimes is friend or foe
There seems to be no other way
Where the berries grow

“Wish those folks would just go back”
Snorts a fool who’ll never know
The lives eked out on his behalf
Where the berries grow