Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

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

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

My own father, he waded that river,
They all the money he made in his life.
My brothers and sisters come the fruit trees,
And they rode the 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 will call you will be "deportees".

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

We died in your hills, and we in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and on your plains.
We died 'neath trees 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 have a when you ride the big airplane,
All they call you will be "deportees".

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

Is this the way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can our good fruit?
To like 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 have a name when you ride the big airplane,
All they will you will be "deportees".
All they will call you be "deportees".