Versuri Bob Dylan - The Ballad of Ira Hayes

Album: Bob Dylan - Dylan (1973)

Gather round you people and a story I will tell
 About a brave young Indian you should remember well
 From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band
 They farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land
 Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
 Till their white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
 Now Ira's folks were hungry and their farms wene crops of weeds
 But when war came he volunteers and forgot, the white man's greed
 Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
 Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
 
 They started up Iwo Jima Hill, 250 men
 But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again
 And when the fight was over and the old glory raised
 One of the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes
 Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
 Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
 
 Now Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
 He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
 But he was just a Pima Indian, no money crops, no chance
 And at home nobody cared what Ira had done and the wind did the Indian's dance
 Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
 Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
 
 And Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
 They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone
 He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he had fought to save
 Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes
 Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
 Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
 
 Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry
 And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died
 Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
 Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
 Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.
Lyrics
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