Luyện nghe bài hát Where Are You Now My Son

(Words and Music by Baez)

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

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

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

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

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

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

The siren gives a break to those who live 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 ones sit on the curb and stare
At tracers flashing through the sky and planes in air
But way out in the villages no warning comes a blast
means a sleeping child will never make it to the door

The days of our were fun
Where are you now, my

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

In a damaged prison camp where they no had command
They shook heads, what irony, we thought peace 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"

was the righteous gun
Where are you now, my

We gathered in the lobby celebrating Eve
The French, the Poles, the Indians, and Vietnamese
The tiny tree our had fixed sweetened familiar psalms
But the most sacred of Christmas 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 as their voices soared with joy
Outshining every bomb that fell that upon Hanoi

With we have sun
But are you now, my son?

Oh people of the shelters what a gift given me
To at me and quietly let me share your agony
And I can only bow in humbleness and ask
and forgiveness for the things we've brought to pass

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

I've heard the war is done
Then where are you now, my

1973 Music (ASCAP)