Luyện nghe bài hát Peppers And Tomatoes

This year in my I grow peppers and tomatoes,
and tomatoes, they grow together well,
And my neighbours all around me they grow and potatoes
Cabbages and onions in village where we dwell.

And in the year we will bring wine to the table
Bring to the table, and reap what we have sown.
Like my father did and his father did before him
And his did before him, we will share what we have grown.

little patch of dirt, this little pile of stones.
I can wash the dust from off my face, and
But earth is in my bones.

Military vehicles are passing through our
through our village with young soldiers ill at ease.
Unsmiling and unshaven, and uncertain
and uncertain, and all smoking constantly.

And my say "Don't worry for you are one of us,
You are one of us and it will not here",
But the next night at the caf, when I bring to the table,
When I bring wine to the table, but they are drinking beer.

Last night the hand of fell heavy on my shoulders,
Heavy on my as I turned away to go.
As I said some old men, some old men and young soldiers
Were humming tunes and singing to songs that I did not know.

Oh this patch of dirt, and this little pile of stones
I can wash the from off my face and skin,
But this is in my bones.

This morning my wife me that she'd been to church on Sunday,
Been to church on Sunday, she had felt the to pray.
Our children were there but it was just to please the old ones,
Just to please the old ones, and I know what to say.

Tonight, as dark is falling, I am to my garden,
Tending to my garden, and the crop that I grown.
And my car is heavy laden, and soon start the engine,
Soon I'll start the engine, wake the and be gone.

Oh this little of dirt, and this little pile of stones
I can wash the dust from off my and skin
But earth is in my bones.

My shotgun it is loaded, and hidden in the cabin,
It's hidden in the cabin, and the growing chilled.
My mouth is dry, my hands are moist, and if tries to stop me,
Someone tries to stop me, I am now to kill.

Oh this little patch of dirt, and this pile of stones
I can wash the from off my face and skin
But this is in my bones.

I am watering my garden, I smell the cigarette smoke,
the cigarette smoke, and I turn round in the dust
And I see the glint of rifles, but I see the faces
But I the voices that say, "You must come with us".