Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

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

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

My own father, he waded that river,
took all the money he made in his life.
My brothers and sisters working the fruit trees,
And they rode the trucks they took down and died.

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

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

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

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

The sky plane caught fire over Los Canyon,
A of lightning, it shook all our hills,
Who are these friends, all like dry leaves?
The radio says, "They are 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 call you will be "deportees".