The Ballad Of Ira Hayes: acordes por 
Hazel Dickens 
N/A
5.0 (1)
Key: D major•
Verse 1
D
G
A
Call
G
D
him drunken ira hayes
He won't answer any more
G
A
G
D
Not the whiskey drinkin'
indian
Not the marine who went to war
Verse 2
D
Gather 'round me people There's
G
a story I would tell
A
About a brave young indian
G
D
You should remember well
From the land of the pima indians
G
A proud and noble band
A
Who farmed the phoenix valley
G
D
In arizona land
Verse 3
Down their ditches for a thousand years
D
G
The waters grew ira's people's crops
A
Till the white man stole
their water rights
G
D
And their sparklin' water stopped
Now ira's folks grew hungry
G
And their land grew crops of weeds
A
When war came ira volunteered
G
D
And for got the white man's greed
Verse 4
D
Call him drunken ira hayes He
G
won't answer any more
A
Not the whiskey drinkin' indian
G
Not the mar ine who went to
D
war
Interlude 1
G
A
G
D
G
A
G
D
Well,
Verse 5
they battle up
iwo jima hill
G
Two hundred and fifty men
A
But only twenty seven lived
G
D
To walk back down again
When the fight was over
G
And old glory raised
A
Among the men who held it high
G
Was in dian ira hayes
Verse 6
D
Call him drunken ira hayes
He won't answer any more
Not the whiskey drinkin' indian
Not the marine who went to war
Verse 7
D
Ira hayes returned a hero
G
Celebrated through the land
A
He was wined and
speeched and honored
G
D
Every body shook his hand;
But he was just a pima indian
G
No water, no home, no chance
A
At home nobody cared what ira had done
G
D
And when do the indians dance?
Verse 8
D
Call him drunken ira hayes
G
He won't answer any more;
A
Not the whiskey drinkin' indian
G
Not the marine who went to
D
war
Interlude 2
D
G
A
G
D
G
A
G
D
Verse 9
D
Then ira started drinkin' hard
G
Jail was often his home
A
They let him raise the
flag and lower it
G
D
As you would throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning
G
Alone in the land he'd fought to save
A
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
G
D
Was the grave for ira hayes
G
A
Verse 10
G
D
Call him drunken ira hayes
G
He won't answer any more
A
Not the whiskey drinkin' indian
G
D
Not the mar ine who went to war
Verse 11
D
Yeah! call him drunken ira hayes
G
But his land is just as dry
A
And the ghost is lying thirsty
G
D
In the ditch where ira died
AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesD G A
D
G
A
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