Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

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

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

My own father, he waded that river,
They all the money he made in his life.
My and sisters 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 a name when you ride the big airplane,
All they will call you be "deportees".

Some of us are illegal, and are not wanted,
When is out, we've got to move 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 when you ride the big airplane,
All they call you will be "deportees".

The sky caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A fireball of lightning, it all our hills,
Who are these friends, all 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 good
To fall like dry and rot on our topsoil,
To be by no name 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".