Ballad Of 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 greedCHORUS: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 HayesCHORUS: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 danceCHORUS: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 HayesCHORUS: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