Karaoké The Ballad of Ira Hayes Johnny Cash

Ira Hayes

Ira Hayes

Call him drunken Ira Hayes

He won't answer anymore

Not the whiskey drinking Indian nor the marine that went to war

Gather 'round me people

There is a story I would tell 'bout 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

Down the ditches of thousand years the waters grew

Ira's peoples' crops

'Till the white man stole their water rights and the sparkling 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

Call him drunken Ira Hayes

He won't answer anymore

Not the whiskey drinking Indian nor the marine that went to war

There they battled up

Iwo Jima hill

Two hundred and fifty men

But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again

And when the fight was over and Old Glory raised

Among the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes

Call him drunken Ira Hayes

He won't answer anymore

Not the whiskey drinking Indian nor the marine that went to war

Ira Hayes 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 home, no chance at home nobody cared what Ira have done

And when did the Indians dance

Call him drunken Ira Hayes

He won't answer anymore

Not the whiskey drinking Indian nor the marine that went to war

Then Ira started drinking hard

Jail was often his home

They let him raise the flag and lower it

Like you'd throw a dog a bone

He died drunk early one morning alone in the land he fought to save

Two inches of water and a lonely ditch was a grave for Ira Hayes

Call him drunken Ira Hayes

He won't answer anymore

Not the whiskey drinking Indian nor the marine that went to war

Yeah, call him drunken

Ira Hayes

But his land is just as dry and his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died