Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad Of Boot Hill

Ira
Ira

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

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

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

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

Call him Ira Hayes
He won't anymore
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 down again

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

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

Ira a hero
Celebrated the land
He was wined and speeched and
shook his hand

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

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

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

He died drunk one
Alone in the he fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely
Was a for Ira Hayes

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

Yeah, him drunken Ira Hayes
But his is just as dry
And his ghost is thirsty
In the where Ira died