Ballad of Ira Hayes

Ira Hayes  Ira Hayes (ref :) 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'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 ref :) 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 ref :) 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 ref :) Then Ira started drinking 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 morning alone in the land he fought to save two inches of water in a lonely ditch was a grave for Ira Hayes ref :) 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 turnarounds :