Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of Ira Hayes

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

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

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

There they battled up Iwo hill,
Two hundred and men,
But only lived,
To back down 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 won't anymore,
Not the drinking Indian,
Or the marine went to war.

Ira returned a hero,
through the land,
He was and speeched and honored,
Everybody his hand,
But he was a Pima Indian,
No water, no home, no chance,
At home nobody cared Ira'd done,
And did the Indians dance.

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

Ira started drinking hard,
Jail was his home,
let him raise the flag and lower it
Like you'd a dog a bone.
He died early one morning,
Alone in the land he to save,
Two inches of water and a 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 land is as dry,
And his ghost is thirsty,
In the ditch Ira died.