Luyện nghe bài hát Where Are You Now My Son

(Words and Music by Baez)

It's walking to the battleground always makes me cry
I've met so few folks in my time who afraid to die
But dawn bleeds with the here and morning skies are red
As young girls load up bicycles with flowers for the

An aging woman along the craters and the rubble
A piece of cloth, a bit of shoe, a whole of trouble
A sobbing chant comes her throat and splits the morning air
The single son she had night is buried under her

They say the war is done
Where are you now, my

An old man with unsteady gait and beard of ancient
Bent to the ground with arms faltering in his plight
I took his to steady him, he stood and did not turn
But smiled and wept and and mumbled softly, "Danke shoen"

The children on the of the villages and towns
Would around us laughing as we stood like giant clowns
The mourning bands told whom they'd lost by last night's messenger
And they spoke only words in English, "Johnson, Nixon, Kissinger"

Now that the being won
Where are you now, my

The siren gives a running break to who live in town
Take the children and the blankets to the concrete
Sometimes we'd sing and joke and paint bright pictures on the
And if we would die well and if we'd loved at all

The helmetless defiant ones sit on the and stare
At tracers flashing the sky and planes bursting in air
But way out in the villages no warning comes before a
That means a child will never make it to the door

The days of our were fun
are you now, my son?

From the distant in the sky where no man hears the sound
Of death on earth from his own bombs, six were shot down
Next day six hulking bandaged men dazzled by a room
Of newsmen. Sally keep the faith, let's this war ends soon

In a damaged prison camp where they no had command
shook their heads, what irony, we thought peace was at hand
The preacher read a Christmas prayer and the men kneeled on the
sheepishly asked me to sing "They Drove Old Dixie Down"

Yours was the gun
are you now, my son?

We in the lobby celebrating Chrismas Eve
The French, the Poles, the Indians, and Vietnamese
The tiny our host had fixed sweetened familiar psalms
But the most sacred of Christmas prayers was shattered by the

So into the shelter where two lovely women rose
And with a brilliance and a and a gentleness which froze
The rest of us to silence as their voices with joy
Outshining every bomb that fell that upon Hanoi

With bravery we sun
But where are you now, my

Oh people of the shelters a gift you've given me
To smile at me and quietly let me your agony
And I can bow in utter humbleness and ask
Forgiveness and forgiveness for the things we've to pass

The black pyjama'd culture that we tried to kill with pellet
And rows of tiny coffins paid for with our souls
Have built a spirit seldom in women and in men
And the white flower of Bac Mai will surely once again

heard that the war is done
Then where are you now, my

1973 Chandos (ASCAP)