Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of Ira Hayes

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

Gather me people,
There's a story I tell,
'Bout a brave Indian,
You remember well.
From the of the Pima Indian,
A proud and band,
Who the Phoenix Valley,
In land.
the ditches a thousand years,
The waters Ira's peoples' crops,
the white man stole their water rights,
And the sparkling stopped.
Now, Ira's were hungry,
And their land grew of weeds,
war came, Ira volunteered,
And forgot the white greed.

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

There battled up Iwo Jima hill,
Two and fifty men,
But twenty-seven lived,
To back down again.
And when the was over,
And Old raised,
Among the men who 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 and speeched and honored,
shook his hand,
But he was just a Indian,
No water, no home, no chance,
At home cared what Ira'd done,
And did the Indians dance.

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

Ira started drinking hard,
Jail was his home,
They let him the flag and lower it
you'd throw a dog a bone.
He died drunk one morning,
Alone in the he fought to save,
Two of water and a lonely ditch,
Was a for Ira Hayes.

him drunken Ira Hayes,
He won't anymore,
Not the whiskey Indian,
Or the that went to war.

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