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 bleeds with the people here and morning skies are red
As young girls load up with flowers for the dead

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

They say the war is done
are you now, my son?

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

The children on the roadsides of the and towns
Would stand around us laughing as we like giant clowns
The mourning told whom they'd lost by last night's phantom messenger
And they spoke their only 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 underground
Sometimes sing and joke and paint bright pictures on the wall
And wonder if we die well and if we'd loved at all

The defiant ones sit on the curb and stare
At tracers flashing through the sky and planes in air
But way out in the villages no comes before a blast
That means a sleeping child will never 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, let's hope this war soon

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

Yours was the 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 sweetened familiar psalms
But the most sacred of Christmas prayers was shattered by the

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

With bravery we sun
But where are you now, my

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

The black pyjama'd culture we tried to kill with pellet holes
And rows of tiny coffins we've paid for 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 heard that the war is
Then where are you now, my

1973 Music (ASCAP)