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 me they grow beans and potatoes
Cabbages and onions in this village we dwell.

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

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

Military are passing through our village
Passing through our village with 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 will not here",
But the next at the caf, when I bring wine to the table,
When I wine to the table, but they are sitting drinking beer.

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

Oh this little patch of dirt, and this little 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 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 don't 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 start the engine, wake the and be gone.

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

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

Oh little 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.

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