Luyện nghe bài hát Peppers And Tomatoes

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

And later in the year we will bring wine to the
Bring wine to the table, and 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.

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

Military are passing through our village
Passing our village with young soldiers ill at ease.
and unshaven, distrustful and uncertain
Distrustful and uncertain, and all constantly.

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

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

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

This morning my wife told me that she'd to church on Sunday,
to church on Sunday, she had felt the need to pray.
Our children were there but it was just to please the old ones,
to please the old ones, and I don't 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 I'll start the engine,
Soon I'll the engine, wake the children and be gone.

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

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

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

I am watering my garden, when I smell the smoke,
Smell the cigarette smoke, and I turn round in the
And I see the of rifles, but I cannot see the faces
But I recognise the voices that say, "You must come us".