Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

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

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

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

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

Some of us are illegal, and are not wanted,
When contract is out, 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 in your valleys and died on your plains.
We died 'neath your trees and we died in bushes,
sides of the river, we died just the same.

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
mis amigos, Jesus y Maria.
You won't have a name 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 says, "They are just 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 by no name except "deportees"?

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