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 I would tell,
'Bout a young Indian,
You remember well.
From the land of the Indian,
A proud and band,
Who farmed the Valley,
In land.
Down the a thousand years,
The waters grew Ira's crops,
'Til the white man their water rights,
And the sparkling stopped.
Now, folks were hungry,
And their land grew of weeds,
war came, Ira volunteered,
And forgot the white greed.

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

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

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

Ira Hayes a hero,
Celebrated 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 when did the dance.

Call him Ira Hayes,
He answer anymore,
Not the whiskey Indian,
Or the marine went 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 drunk early one morning,
in the land he fought to save,
Two inches of and a lonely ditch,
Was a for Ira Hayes.

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

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