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

Lyrics by Woody
by Martin Hoffman

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

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

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

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

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

A sky caught fire over Los Gatos canyon
Like a fireball of lightning, it all our hills
Who are all these friends, all like dry leaves?
The radio says they are deportees.

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