Luyện nghe bài hát Peppers And Tomatoes

This year in my garden I peppers and tomatoes,
Peppers and tomatoes, they grow 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 to the table
Bring wine to the table, and reap what we sown.
Like my father did before and his did before him
And his father did before him, we will share what we grown.

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

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

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

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

Oh this little of dirt, and this little pile of stones
I can wash the from off my face and skin,
But earth 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 baptised there but it was just to the old ones,
Just to please the old ones, and I know what to say.

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

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

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

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

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