Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

Call him Ira Hayes
He won't anymore
Not the whiskey Indian
Nor the that went to war

Gather round me people a story I would tell
About a brave young Indian you remember well
From the land of the Pima Indian a proud and noble
Who farmed the Phoenix valley in land

the ditches for a thousand years
The water grew Ira's peoples'
'Till the man stole the water rights
And the sparklin' water

Now Ira's folks hungry
And their land crops of weeds
war came, Ira volunteered
And the white man's greed

Call him Ira Hayes
He won't answer
Not the whiskey Indian
Nor the Marine that to war

There they battled up Iwo Jima's
Two hundred and men
But twenty-seven
Lived to walk back down

And the fight was over
And Old Glory raised
Among the men who held it
Was the Indian, Ira

Call him Ira Hayes
He won't anymore
Not the drinkin' Indian
Nor the that went to war

Ira returned a
through the land
He was and speeched and honored
Everybody shook his

But he was a Pima Indian
No water, no crops, no
At home cared what Ira'd done
And did the Indians dance

him drunken Ira Hayes
He answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin'
Nor the that went to war

Then Ira started hard
was often his home
They'd let him the flag and lower it
Like you'd a dog a bone

He died drunk one
Alone in the he fought to save
Two inches of water in a ditch
Was a for Ira Hayes

him drunken Ira Hayes
He answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin'
Nor the Marine went to war

Yeah, call him Ira Hayes
But his is just as dry
And his ghost is thirsty
In the ditch where Ira