Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

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

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

My father's own father, he waded river,
They took all the money he in his life.
My brothers and come 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 will call you will be "deportees".

Some of us are illegal, and are not wanted,
When contract is out, we've got to on.
Six miles to the Mexico border,
chase us like 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 died 'neath trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died the same.

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".

The sky plane fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A of lightning, it shook all our hills,
Who are friends, all scattered like 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 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 you ride the big airplane,
All they will you will be "deportees".
All will call you will be "deportees".