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

Lyrics by Woody
Music by Hoffman

The are all in and the peaches are rotting
The oranges are piled in their cresote
flying you back to the Mexico border
To pay all your money to wade back

My father's own father, he wanted river
They all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters working 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 will you will be deportees.

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

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

A sky plane caught fire over Los canyon
Like a fireball of lightning, it shook all our
Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry
The says they are just 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 by no name except deportees?