Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

Call him drunken Ira
He won't answer
Not the whiskey drinkin'
Nor the that went to war

Gather round me there's a story I would tell
About a brave young Indian you remember well
the land of the Pima Indian a proud and noble band
Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona

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

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

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

There battled up Iwo Jima's hill
Two and fifty men
But twenty-seven
to walk back down again

And when the fight was
And when Old raised
Among the men who it high
Was the Indian, Ira

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

Ira returned a
Celebrated through the
He was wined and speeched and
shook his hand

But he was just a Pima
No water, no crops, no
At home nobody cared Ira'd done
And when did the Indians

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

Then Ira drinkin' hard
Jail was often his
They'd let him raise the and lower it
Like you'd throw a dog a

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

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

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