Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ira a hero
Celebrated through the
He was wined and and honored
shook his hand

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

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

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

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

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

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