Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

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

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

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

Now folks were hungry
And their grew crops of weeds
war came, Ira volunteered
And forgot the white greed

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

they battled up Iwo Jima's hill
Two and fifty men
But only
Lived to walk back down

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

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

Ira returned a
Celebrated the land
He was wined and and honored
Everybody his hand

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

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

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

He died one mornin'
Alone in the land he to save
Two inches of water in a ditch
Was a grave for Ira

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

Yeah, call him Ira Hayes
But his is just as dry
And his ghost is lyin'
In the where Ira died