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 'round me people there's a I would tell
About a brave young Indian you should well
the land 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 people's
Till the white man stole their water
And the sparklin' stopped

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

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

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

And when the fight was
And 'Old raised
Among the men who held it
Was the Indian, Ira

Call him drunken Ira
He answer anymore
Not the whiskey Indian
Nor the Marine went to war

Ira returned a hero
through the land
He was and speeched and honored
shook his hand

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

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

Then Ira started drinkin'
was often his home
They'd let him raise the and lower it
you'd throw a dog a bone!

He died early one mornin'
Alone in the he fought to save
Two inches of in a lonely ditch
Was a for Ira Hayes

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

Yeah, call him drunken Ira
But his land is as dry
And his is lyin' thirsty
In the where Ira died