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

Lyrics by Woody
by Martin Hoffman

The crops are all in and the are rotting
The are piled in their cresote dumps
They're you back to the Mexico border
To pay all your money to wade again

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

Good-bye to my Juan, Rosalita
Adios mis amigos, y Maris
You won't have a name when you ride the big
And all they call you will be deportees.

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

We died in your hills, we in your deserts
We died in your valleys and died on your
We died 'neath your and we died in your bushes
Both sides of the river, we died the same.

A sky plane caught fire over Los canyon
a fireball of lightning, it shook all our hills
Who are all 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 our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves to rot on my
And be called by no name except