Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of Ira Hayes

Ira Hayes, Ira

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

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

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

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

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

There they battled up Iwo Jima's
Two and fifty men
But only twenty lived
To walk down again

And when the was over
And 'Old Glory'
Among the men who it high
Was the Indian, Ira

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

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

But he was a Pima Indian
No water, no home, no
At home nobody cared what done
And when did the dance

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

Then Ira started hard
Jail was his home
They'd let him raise the and lower it
Like you'd a dog a bone!

He drunk early one mornin'
in the land he fought to save
Two of water in a lonely ditch
Was a grave for Ira

Call him drunken Ira
He answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin'
Nor the Marine that to war

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