Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of Ira Hayes

Gather me people
A I will tell
About a young Indian lad
You should remember

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

Down their ditches for a years
The sparkling rushed
the white man stole their water rights
And the running hushed

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

him drunken Ira Hayes
He wont anymore
Not whiskey drinking Indian
Or who went to war

Well, they battled up Iwo Hill
Two and fifty men
But twenty-seven lived
To back down again

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

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

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

But he was just a Indian
No food, no friend, no
Back home nobody what Ira had did
And do the Indians 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 died drunk early one
All alone in the hed fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely
Was the grave for Ira

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

Yeah, call him Ira Hayes
But his is still as dry
And his ghost, well, its lying thirsty
In the ditch where Ira

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