Luyện nghe bài hát Where Are You Now My Son

(Words and by Joan Baez)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The helmetless defiant ones sit on the curb and
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 make it to the door

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

From the distant in the sky where no man hears the sound
Of death on earth from his own bombs, six pilots shot down
Next day six hulking bandaged men were dazzled by a
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, what irony, we peace was at hand
The preacher read a Christmas prayer and the men kneeled on the
Then sheepishly asked me to sing "They Old Dixie Down"

Yours was the gun
are you now, my son?

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

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

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

Oh people of the shelters what a you've given me
To at me and quietly 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 kill with holes
And of tiny coffins we've paid for with our souls
Have built a seldom seen in women and in men
And the white flower of Bac Mai will surely blossom once

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

Chandos Music (ASCAP)