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 piled in creosote dumps.
They're flying you to the Mexico border,
To pay all oranges to wade back again.

My father's own father, he waded 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 took and died.

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".

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

We died in your hills, and we in your deserts,
We died in your and died on your plains.
We died your trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died 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 call you will be "deportees".

The sky plane caught fire Los Gatos Canyon,
A of lightning, it shook all our hills,
Who are these friends, all scattered 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 our good fruit?
To fall dry leaves and rot on our topsoil,
To be by no name except "deportees"?

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