Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

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

The are all in and the peaches are rotting,
The oranges are piled in their dumps.
They're you back to the Mexico border,
To pay all your oranges to back again.

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

to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, y Maria.
You won't a name when you ride the big airplane,
All will 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 like outlaws, rustlers, like thieves.

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

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

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

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

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