Ira Hayes Lyrics
| Song | Ira Hayes |
| Artist | Townes Van Zandt |
| Album | The Highway Kind |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : LaFarge | |
| Ira Hayes, | |
| Ira Hayes | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won't answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won't answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won't answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won't answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won't answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' 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 lyin' thirsty | |
| In the ditch where Ira died |
| zuo ci : LaFarge | |
| Ira Hayes, | |
| Ira Hayes | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| There they battled up Iwo Jima' s hill, | |
| Two hundred and fifty men | |
| But only twentyseven 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: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' 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 lyin' thirsty | |
| In the ditch where Ira died |
| zuò cí : LaFarge | |
| Ira Hayes, | |
| Ira Hayes | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| There they battled up Iwo Jima' s hill, | |
| Two hundred and fifty men | |
| But only twentyseven 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: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian | |
| Nor the Marine that went to war | |
| 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 | |
| CHORUS: | |
| Call him drunken Ira Hayes | |
| He won' t answer anymore | |
| Not the whiskey drinkin' 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 lyin' thirsty | |
| In the ditch where Ira died |
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