Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ira a hero
through the land
He was wined and speeched and
Everybody shook his

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

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

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

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

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

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