Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

( by Woody Guthrie / Music by Martin Hoffman
Live performance 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 that river,
They took all the money he in his life.
My brothers and come working the fruit trees,
And rode 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".

of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
When is out, we've got to move on.
Six hundred miles to the border,
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, 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,
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 they will call you be "deportees".

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

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