Luyện nghe bài hát Peppers And Tomatoes

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

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

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

Military vehicles are through our village
through our village with young soldiers ill at ease.
Unsmiling and unshaven, 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 some old men, some old men and young soldiers
Were tunes and singing words to songs that I did not know.

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

morning my wife told me that she'd been to church on Sunday,
Been to church on Sunday, she had felt the to pray.
Our children were baptised there but it was just to the old ones,
Just to the old ones, and I don't know what to say.

Tonight, as dark is falling, I am to my garden,
to my garden, and the crop 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 patch of dirt, and little pile of stones
I can wash the dust from off my face and
But earth is in my bones.

My shotgun it is loaded, and it's in the cabin,
It's in the cabin, and the evening's 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 little pile of
I can wash the dust from off my 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 cannot see the
But I recognise the voices that say, "You must come us".