Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of Ira Hayes

Gather 'round me
A story I tell
About a brave young lad
You remember well

a tribe of Pima Indians
A and peaceful band
They farmed the valley
Out in land

Down their for a thousand years
The sparkling rushed
Till the white man stole their water
And the running water

Iras folks was
Their fields thick with weeds
But war came Ira volunteered
And the white mans greed

Call him drunken Ira
He wont anymore
Not that whiskey Indian
Or Marine who to war

Well, they battled up Iwo Hill
Two and fifty men
But only lived
To walk down again

And after the was over
And Old proudly raised
Among the men who held her
an Indian, Ira Hayes

Call him drunken Ira
He wont answer
Not that whiskey drinking
Or who went to war

Well, Ira Hayes returned a
Celebrated the land
He was and speeched and honored
Hell, everybody shook his

But he was just a Indian
No food, no friend, no
home nobody cared what Ira had did
And when do the dance?

Well, Ira took to drinking
often was his home
They used to let him raise the there
And it just like youd throw a dog a bone

And Ira drunk early one morning
All alone in the hed fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely
Was the grave for Ira

him drunken Ira Hayes
He answer anymore
Not that whiskey drinking
Or who went to war

Yeah, call him drunken Ira
But his land is as dry
And his ghost, well, its lying there
In the ditch where Ira

Call him Ira Hayes
He wont anymore
Not that drinking Indian
Or who went to war