Luyện nghe bài hát Where Are You Now My Son

(Words and by Joan Baez)

It's walking to the that always makes me cry
I've met so few folks in my who weren't afraid to die
But dawn bleeds with the here and morning skies are red
As girls 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 lifetime of
A chant comes from her throat and splits the morning air
The single son she had last is buried under her

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

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

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

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

The siren gives a running to those who live in town
Take the children and the to the concrete underground
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 curb and
At flashing through the sky and planes bursting in air
But way out in the villages no warning before a blast
That means a sleeping will never make it to the door

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

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

In a damaged prison camp where they no longer had
They shook their heads, irony, we thought peace was at hand
The preacher read a Christmas prayer and the men kneeled on the
Then sheepishly asked me to sing "They Drove Old 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 host had fixed familiar psalms
But the most sacred of Christmas prayers was by the bombs

So into the shelter where two lovely women rose
And with a brilliance and a fierceness and a gentleness which
The rest of us to as their voices soared with 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 quietly let me your agony
And I can only bow in utter and ask
Forgiveness and forgiveness for the things we've to pass

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

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

1973 Music (ASCAP)