Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of Ira Hayes

Ira Hayes...
Ira Hayes...
Call him Ira Hayes,
He answer anymore,
Not the drinking Indian,
Or the that went to war.

'round me people,
There's a I would tell,
'Bout a brave Indian,
You remember well.
From the of the Pima Indian,
A proud and band,
Who the Phoenix Valley,
In land.
Down the a thousand years,
The waters grew peoples' crops,
the white man stole their water rights,
And the sparkling stopped.
Now, Ira's were hungry,
And land grew crops of weeds,
war came, Ira volunteered,
And forgot the man's greed.

him drunken Ira Hayes,
He won't anymore,
Not the whiskey Indian,
Or the that went to war.

they battled up Iwo Jima hill,
Two and fifty men,
But twenty-seven lived,
To walk back again.
And when the was over,
And Old raised,
Among the men who it high,
Was the Indian, Ira Hayes.

him drunken Ira Hayes,
He won't anymore,
Not the drinking Indian,
Or the that went to war.

Ira Hayes a hero,
through the land,
He was wined and and honored,
shook his hand,
But he was just a Indian,
No water, no home, no chance,
At home nobody cared what done,
And did the Indians dance.

Call him Ira Hayes,
He won't anymore,
Not the drinking Indian,
Or the marine that to war.

Then Ira started hard,
Jail was his home,
They let him the flag and lower it
you'd throw a dog a bone.
He died drunk one morning,
Alone in the he fought to save,
Two inches of water and a ditch,
Was a for Ira Hayes.

Call him Ira Hayes,
He answer anymore,
Not the whiskey Indian,
Or the marine that to war.

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