Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

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

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

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

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

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

There they battled up Iwo Jima's
Two hundred and 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 won't anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin'
Nor the Marine that to war

Ira returned a
Celebrated through the
He was and speeched and honored
Everybody his hand

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

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

Then Ira started hard
Jail was his home
They'd let him raise the flag and it
you'd throw a dog a bone

He drunk one mornin'
Alone in the land he to save
Two inches of water in a lonely
Was a for Ira Hayes

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

Yeah, call him Ira Hayes
But his land is as dry
And his is lyin' thirsty
In the ditch Ira died