Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of Ira Hayes

Ira Hayes, Ira

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

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

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

Now Ira's folks were
And their land crops of weeds
war came, Ira volunteered
And forgot the white greed

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

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

And the fight was over
And 'Old Glory'
Among the men who held it
Was the Indian, Ira

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

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

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

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

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

He died early one mornin'
Alone in the land he to save
Two inches of water in a ditch
Was a grave for Ira

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

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