Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)

Lyrics by Woody
Music by Hoffman

The crops are all in and the peaches are
The oranges are piled in cresote dumps
flying you back to the Mexico border
To pay all money to wade back again

My father's own father, he wanted that
took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters working the fruit trees
And they rode the truck till they down and died

Good-bye to my Juan, Rosalita
mis amigos, Jesus y Maris
You have a name when you ride the big air-plane
And all they will you will be deportees.

Some of us are illega, and not wanted
Our work contract's out and we have to on
But it's six hundred miles to that border
chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like theives.

We in your hills, we died in your deserts
We died in your valleys and died on plains
We died your trees and we died in your bushes
Both sides of the river, we just the same.

A sky plane fire over Los Gatos canyon
a fireball of lightning, it shook all our hills
Who are all friends, all scattered like dry leaves?
The radio they are just deportees.

Is this the best way we can our big orchards?
Is this the way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves to rot on my
And be called by no except deportees?