The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

Ira Hayes, Ira Hayes

R: Call him drunken Ira Hayes

he won`t answer anymore

not the whiskey drinkin` Indian

nor the Marine that went to war

1. Gather round me people

there`s a story I would tell

about a brave young Indian

you should remember well

From the land of the Pima Indian

a proud and noble band

who farmed the Phoenix valley

in Arizona land

2. Down 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 stopped

Now Ira`s folks were hungry

and their land grew crops of weeds

When war came, Ira volunteered

and forgot the white man`s greed

R: Call him drunken Ira Hayes...

3. There they battled up Iwo Jima`s hill,

Two hundred and fifty men

but only twenty-seven lived

to walk back down again

And when the fight was over

and when Old Glory raised

among the men who held it high

was the Indian, Ira Hayes

R: Call him drunken Ira Hayes...

4. Ira returned a hero

celebrated through the land

he was wined and speeched and honored;

everybody shook his hand

but he was just a Pima Indian

no water, no crops, no chance

at home nobody cared what Ira`d done

and when did the Indians dance

R: Call him drunken Ira Hayes...

5. Then Ira started drinkin` hard;

jail was often his home

they`d let him raise the flag and lower it

like you`d throw a dog a bone!

He died drunk one mornin`

alone in the land he fought to save

two inches of water in a lonely

ditch was a grave for Ira Hayes

R: Call him drunken Ira Hayes...

6. Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes

but his land is just as dry

and his ghost is lyin` thirsty

in the ditch where Ira died