Luyện nghe bài hát Where Are You Now My Son

(Words and by Joan Baez)

It's walking to the battleground that always me cry
I've met so few folks in my who weren't afraid to die
But bleeds with the people here and morning skies are red
As young girls load up bicycles with flowers for the

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

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

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

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

Now the war's being won
Where are you now, my

The siren gives a running break to those who in town
the children and the blankets to the concrete underground
Sometimes we'd sing and and paint bright pictures on the wall
And wonder if we would die well and if we'd at all

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

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

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

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

Yours was the gun
Where are you now, my

We gathered in the lobby Chrismas Eve
The French, the Poles, the Indians, Cubans and
The tiny tree our host had fixed sweetened familiar
But the most sacred of prayers was shattered by the bombs

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

With we have sun
But where are you now, my

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

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

I've that the war is done
where are you now, my son?

1973 Music (ASCAP)