Luyện nghe bài hát Where Are You Now My Son

(Words and by Joan Baez)

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

An aging picks along the craters and the rubble
A piece of cloth, a bit of shoe, a lifetime of trouble
A sobbing chant comes her throat and splits the morning air
The single son she had last night is buried 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 took his hand to him, he stood and did not turn
But smiled and wept and bowed and softly, "Danke shoen"

The on the roadsides of the villages and towns
stand around us laughing as we stood like giant clowns
The mourning bands told they'd lost by last night's phantom messenger
And they their 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
Take the children and the to the concrete underground
Sometimes we'd sing and joke and paint pictures on the wall
And wonder if we would die well and if 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 warning comes before a
That means a sleeping child will never it to the door

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

From the distant cabins in the sky where no man 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 hope this war soon

In a damaged prison where they no longer had command
They their heads, what irony, we thought peace was at hand
The preacher a Christmas prayer and the men kneeled on the ground
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 had fixed sweetened familiar psalms
But the most sacred of Christmas was shattered by the bombs

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

bravery 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 share agony
And I can only bow in utter and ask
and forgiveness for the things we've brought to pass

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

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

1973 Music (ASCAP)