Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

( Words by Woody Guthrie / by Martin Hoffman
Live performance with Verdries, his mother )

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

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

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".

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

We in your hills, and we died in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and died on plains.
We died 'neath 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 won't have a name when you the big airplane,
All will call you will be "deportees".

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

Is this the way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the way we can grow our good fruit?
To like 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 a name when you ride the big airplane,
All they call you will be "deportees".
All they will you will be "deportees".