Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

( Words by Woody / 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.
They're you back to the Mexico border,
To pay all your oranges to back again.

My own father, he waded that river,
took all the money he made in his life.
My and sisters 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 they call you will be "deportees".

of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
When contract is out, we've got to on.
Six hundred to the Mexico border,
They chase us 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 your trees and we 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 will call you will be "deportees".

The sky plane caught over Los Gatos 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 way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry and rot on our topsoil,
To be known by no name "deportees"?

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".
All they will you will be "deportees".