Ballad Of Ira Hayes

(part of "Taps" is played on a flute, then:) Ira Hayes Ira Hayes {CHORUS:} Call him drunken Ira Hayes he wonFt answer anymore not the whiskey drinkinF Indian nor the Marine that went to war Gather round me people thereFs 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 Down the ditches for a thousand years the water grew IraFs peoples crops till the white man stole the water rights and the sparklin water stopped Now IraFs folks were hungry and their land grew crops of weeds When war came, Ira volunteered and forgot the white manFs greed {CHORUS} There they battled up Iwo JimaFs 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 {CHORUS:} 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 IraFd done and when did the Indians dance {CHORUS:} Then Ira started drinkinF hard; jail was often his home theyFd let him raise the flag and lower it like youFd throw a dog a bone! He died drunk one morninF alone in the land he fought to save two inches of water in a lonely ditch was a grave for Ira Hayes {CHORUS:} Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes but his land is just as dry and his ghost is lyinF thirsty in the ditch where Ira died turnarounds: A to D:D------0- D to E:D------- E to A:D-------- A--3-4--- A-0-1--- A------0- E-------- E-----0- E--2-4--- intro: D-----2------------------- A-0-4---4-0-------------0- E-----------0-----0--0----