Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

Call him drunken Ira
He answer anymore
Not the whiskey Indian
Nor the Marine went to war

Gather round me people a story I would tell
About a young Indian you should remember well
From the of the Pima Indian a proud and noble band
Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona

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

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

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

There they battled up Iwo hill
Two and fifty men
But only
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 answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin'
Nor the that went to war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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