Johnny Cash Ballad Of Ira Hayes Lyrics

Ballad Of Ira Hayes Lyrics

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 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'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 early
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