Luyện nghe bài hát Plane Wreck At Los Gatos

(Deportee)

The crops are all in and the are rott'ning,
The oranges piled in creosote dumps;
They're flying 'em back to the border
To pay all their money to wade back

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria;
You won't have your when you ride the big airplane,
All they will you will be "deportees"

My own father, he waded that river,
They took all the money he made in his
My brothers and sisters come working the trees,
And they rode the truck till took down and died.

of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
Our work contract's out and we have to on;
Six hundred miles to Mexican border,
They us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

We died in hills, we died in your deserts,
We died in your and died on your plains.
We died your trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we just the same.

The sky plane caught fire over Los Canyon,
A of lightning, and shook all our hills,
Who are all these friends, all like dry leaves?
The radio says, "They are deportees"

Is the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good
To fall dry leaves to rot on my topsoil
And be called by no except "deportees"?