Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of Ira Hayes

Ira Hayes...
Ira Hayes...
Call him Ira Hayes,
He won't anymore,
Not the drinking Indian,
Or the marine went to war.

'round me people,
There's a I would tell,
'Bout a young Indian,
You remember well.
the land of the Pima Indian,
A proud and band,
Who the Phoenix Valley,
In land.
Down the a thousand years,
The grew Ira's peoples' crops,
'Til the white man stole water rights,
And the water stopped.
Now, Ira's folks hungry,
And land grew crops of weeds,
war came, Ira volunteered,
And forgot the man's greed.

Call him Ira Hayes,
He answer anymore,
Not the drinking Indian,
Or the that went to war.

they battled up Iwo Jima hill,
Two hundred and men,
But only lived,
To walk back again.
And when the was over,
And Old raised,
the men who held it high,
Was the Indian, Ira Hayes.

Call him Ira Hayes,
He answer anymore,
Not the drinking Indian,
Or the marine that to war.

Ira returned a hero,
through the land,
He was wined and and honored,
Everybody his hand,
But he was a Pima Indian,
No water, no home, no chance,
At home cared what Ira'd done,
And did the Indians dance.

Call him Ira Hayes,
He answer anymore,
Not the whiskey Indian,
Or the marine went to war.

Then Ira started hard,
was often his home,
They let him raise the and lower it
you'd throw a dog a bone.
He died early one morning,
Alone in the land he to save,
Two of water and a lonely ditch,
Was a for Ira Hayes.

Call him Ira Hayes,
He won't anymore,
Not the drinking Indian,
Or the marine went to war.

Yeah, call him Ira Hayes,
But his land is as dry,
And his is lying thirsty,
In the where Ira died.