Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

( by Woody Guthrie / Music by Martin Hoffman
Live with Ellen Verdries, his mother )

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

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

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You have a name when you ride the big airplane,
All they will call you be "deportees".

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

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

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You have a name when you ride the big airplane,
All will call you will be "deportees".

The sky plane caught fire over Los Canyon,
A of lightning, it shook all our hills,
Who are these friends, all scattered like dry
The says, "They are just deportees".

Is the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can our good fruit?
To fall dry leaves 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 will call you will be "deportees".
All they call you will be "deportees".