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Johnny Cash

The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

  country  folk  singer-songwriter  classic rock  rock
978 3 часа назад

Текст песни Johnny Cash - The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

Johnny Cash - The Ballad Of Ira Hayes слова песни




Ira Hayes, Ira Hayes[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira HayesHe won`t answer anymoreNot the whiskey drinkin` Indian Nor the Marine that went to warGather round me people there`s a story I would tellAbout a brave young Indian you should remember wellFrom the land of the Pima Indian A proud and noble bandWho farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona landDown the ditches for a thousand years The water grew Ira`s peoples` crops`Till the white man stole the water rights And the sparklin` water stoppedNow Ira`s folks were hungry And their land grew crops of weedsWhen war came, Ira volunteered And forgot the white man`s greed[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira HayesHe won`t answer anymoreNot the whiskey drinkin` Indian Nor the Marine that went to warThere they battled up Iwo Jima`s hill, Two hundred and fifty menBut only twenty-seven lived to walk back down againAnd when the fight was over And when Old Glory raisedAmong the men who held it high Was the Indian, Ira Hayes[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira HayesHe won`t answer anymoreNot the whiskey drinkin` Indian Nor the Marine that went to warIra returned a hero Celebrated through the landHe was wined and speeched and honored; Everybody shook his handBut he was just a Pima IndianNo water, no crops, no chanceAt home nobody cared what Ira`d done And when did the Indians dance[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira HayesHe won`t answer anymoreNot the whiskey drinkin` Indian Nor the Marine that went to warThen Ira started drinkin` hard;Jail was often his homeThey`d let him raise the flag and lower itlike you`d throw a dog a bone!He died drunk one mornin` Alone in the land he fought to saveTwo inches of water in a lonely ditch Was a grave for Ira Hayes[CHORUS:]Call him drunken Ira HayesHe won`t answer anymoreNot the whiskey drinkin` Indian Nor the Marine that went to warYeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes But his land is just as dryAnd his ghost is lyin` thirsty In the ditch where Ira died

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