Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

( Words by Woody / Music by Martin Hoffman
Live with Ellen Verdries, his mother )

The crops are all in and the are rotting,
The oranges are piled in their dumps.
flying you back to the Mexico border,
To pay all your oranges to back again.

My father's own father, he waded river,
took all the money he made in his life.
My and sisters come working the fruit trees,
And they the trucks till they took down and died.

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You won't have a name when you the big airplane,
All they call you will be "deportees".

of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
When contract is out, we've got to on.
Six miles to the Mexico border,
They chase us outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

We died in hills, and we died in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and on your plains.
We died 'neath your trees and we died in bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died the same.

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You won't a name when you ride the big airplane,
All they will call you be "deportees".

The sky caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A fireball of lightning, it all our hills,
Who are these friends, all scattered dry leaves?
The says, "They are just deportees".

Is this the best way we can grow our big
Is this the way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall dry leaves and rot on our topsoil,
To be known by no name "deportees"?

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You have a name when you ride the big airplane,
All they will call you be "deportees".
All they will call you be "deportees".