Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

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

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

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

Now Ira's were hungry
And their land grew crops of
When war came, Ira
And forgot the white man's

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

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

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

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

Ira a hero
Celebrated the land
He was and speeched and honored
Everybody shook his

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

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

Then Ira started hard
Jail was his home
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 of water in a lonely ditch
Was a grave for Ira

Call him Ira Hayes
He won't anymore
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 where Ira died