Inspired by Jon Stewart and The Daily Show, where most of us get our news, this song juxtaposes our devotion to our chosen deity with our treatment of our neighbor to the south.
See above.
Who'll change the sheets in your hotel room, clean your house, mow your lawn
What would we do if one day all the Mexicans suddenly were gone
Needless to say we need someone to pay to do stuff that's beneath us to do
Don't tell La Migra, que todos nosotros somos migrantes, too
He picks the grapes, we drink the juice
We give thanks to Jesus, pero no a Jesús [but not to Jesús]
Who's making a killing with so many willing to give up their families and home
We'll never invest in their country, I suggest I, too, would be tempted to roam
Who really wants to unscramble the eggs laid by the golden goose
We love our Lord Jesus, but we don't know what to do with Jesús
He picks the grapes, we drink the juice
We feast at the table, waited on by Jesús.
Y su esposa, Maria, y su padre, José
They do twice the jobs for half of the pay
The bill died in the Senate like some migrant in the dirt
It's easy to see the hotel industry are the ones who would really be hurt
If we legalized the influx and thus reduced the flow
Of those disposable people who make our economy grow
He picks the grapes, we bless the juice
The blood of Jesus, from the sweat of Jesús
He picks the grapes, and all our produce
Demos gracias a Jesus, y a la familia de Jesús