The Border Problem

The Border Problem

A crisis on the border,
"We need some law and order."
Complaints! But no one has a clue
What can the US government do?

A problem with no end.
People are dying, my friend.
A father and child sadly drown.
A safe way to freedom must be found.

Two Americas exist, it seems.
One shows immigrants as thieves.
Stealing our jobs, money, lives.
Carry diseases, drugs, knives.

Switch the channel, another view.
We're all immigrants, that is true.
These people could easily be me and you.
Bravely seeking the red, white and blue.

Young women hold on tightly with tiny children.
Tired, dusty, little to their name.
Running away from terrible places.
Look closely, pain and despair, on their faces.

In 1948, a plane crashed, all died.
Mostly Mexican migrants headed to home side.
They came to pick fruit, make a few dimes.
Story made the New York Times.

Woody Guthrie wrote a song
About the lost souls that flew along.
Names of the crew were written down.
No names for “Refugees” who hit the ground.

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.


It was covered by local Mexican press.
Each person gone was addressed.
Many great singers have sung this song.
Royalties paid to each one all along.

People stream to us, risk everything.
They, like those singers, have a dream.
Many told ”No amnesty, not a worthy claim”.
Some of us say, “That’s a shame”

By Kathie Stehr
40 lines

Song lyrics are in italics from "Refugee" by Woody Guthrie