Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

( Words by Woody / Music by Martin Hoffman
performance with Ellen Verdries, his mother )

The are all in and the peaches are rotting,
The oranges are in their creosote dumps.
flying you back to the Mexico border,
To pay all your oranges to wade again.

My father's own father, he waded river,
They took all the he made in his life.
My brothers and sisters working the fruit trees,
And they the trucks till they took down and died.

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You won't have a name when you the big airplane,
All they call you will be "deportees".

Some of us are illegal, and are not wanted,
contract is out, we've got to move on.
Six hundred to the Mexico border,
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, thieves.

We died in hills, and we died in your deserts,
We in your valleys and died on your plains.
We died 'neath your and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we just the same.

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You won't a name when you ride the big airplane,
All they call you will be "deportees".

The sky plane fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A of lightning, it shook all our hills,
Who are these friends, all scattered dry leaves?
The radio says, "They are deportees".

Is this the best way we can our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good
To fall like dry and rot on our topsoil,
To be known by no except "deportees"?

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You won't have a name when you the big airplane,
All they call you will be "deportees".
All will call you will be "deportees".