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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

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  • Текст, перевод и аккорды “The Ballad Of Ira Hayes”

  • Ira Hayes,

    Ira Hayes

    [CHORUS:]

    Call him drunken Ira Hayes

    He won't answer anymore

    Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian

    Nor the Marine that went to war

    Gather round me people there's a story I would tell

    About a brave young Indian you should remember well

    From the land of the Pima Indian

    A proud and noble band

    Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land

    Down the ditches for a thousand years

    The water grew Ira's peoples' crops

    'Till the white man stole the water rights

    And the sparklin' water stopped

    Now Ira's folks were hungry

    And their land grew crops of weeds

    When war came, Ira volunteered

    And forgot the white man's greed

    [CHORUS:]

    Call him drunken Ira Hayes

    He won't answer anymore

    Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian

    Nor the Marine that went to war

    There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill,

    Two hundred and fifty men

    But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again

    And when the fight was over

    And when Old Glory raised

    Among the men who held it high

    Was the Indian, Ira Hayes

    [CHORUS:]

    Call him drunken Ira Hayes

    He won't answer anymore

    Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian

    Nor the Marine that went to war

    Ira returned a hero

    Celebrated through the land

    He was wined and speeched and honored; Everybody shook his hand

    But he was just a Pima Indian

    No water, no crops, no chance

    At home nobody cared what Ira'd done

    And when did the Indians dance

    [CHORUS:]

    Call him drunken Ira Hayes

    He won't answer anymore

    Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian

    Nor the Marine that went to war

    Then Ira started drinkin' hard;

    Jail was often his home

    They'd let him raise the flag and lower it

    like you'd throw a dog a bone!

    He died drunk one mornin'

    Alone in the land he fought to save

    Two inches of water in a lonely ditch

    Was a grave for Ira Hayes

    [CHORUS:]

    Call him drunken Ira Hayes

    He won't answer anymore

    Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian

    Nor the Marine that went to war

    Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes

    But his land is just as dry

    And his ghost is lyin' thirsty

    In the ditch where Ira died

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