Luyện nghe bài hát Where Are You Now My Son

(Words and by Joan Baez)

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

An aging woman picks the craters and the rubble
A of cloth, a bit of shoe, a whole lifetime of trouble
A sobbing chant comes from her throat and splits the 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 gait and beard of ancient white
Bent to the ground with arms faltering in his plight
I took his hand to steady him, he stood and did not
But smiled and and bowed and mumbled softly, "Danke shoen"

The children on the of the villages and towns
stand around us laughing as we stood like giant clowns
The bands 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
are you now, my son?

The siren gives a running break to who live in town
Take the children and the blankets to the underground
Sometimes we'd sing and joke and paint pictures on the wall
And wonder if we would die and if we'd loved at all

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

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

From the distant cabins in the sky where no man hears the
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 keep the faith, hope this war ends soon

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

was the righteous gun
Where are you now, my

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

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

With we have sun
But where are you now, my

Oh people of the what a gift you've given me
To smile at me and let me share 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 culture that we tried to with pellet holes
And rows of tiny coffins we've for with our souls
Have built a spirit seen in women and in men
And the white flower of Bac Mai will surely blossom once

heard that the war is done
Then are you now, my son?

1973 Chandos (ASCAP)