Luyện nghe bài hát Deportees

( by Woody Guthrie / 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 flying you back to the border,
To pay all your oranges to back again.

My father's own father, he waded river,
They took all the he made in his life.
My and sisters come working the fruit trees,
And rode 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 will 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 like outlaws, rustlers, like thieves.

We in your hills, and we died in your deserts,
We in your valleys and died on your plains.
We 'neath your trees 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 fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A fireball of lightning, it 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 best way we can grow our good
To like 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 won't a name when you ride the big airplane,
All will call you will be "deportees".
All they call you will be "deportees".