Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

( Words by Woody Guthrie / Music by Martin
performance with Ellen Verdries, his mother )

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

My father's own father, he that river,
They took all the money he in his life.
My brothers and sisters come working the 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 call you will be "deportees".

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

We in your hills, and we died in your deserts,
We died in valleys and died on your plains.
We died 'neath your and we died in your bushes,
sides of the river, we died just 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 plane caught fire over Los Canyon,
A of lightning, it shook all our hills,
Who are these friends, all scattered like dry
The says, "They are just deportees".

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

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