Ballad Of Ira Hayes Chords

           E                                  A
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;
          B7                               A                  E
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.
 
      E                                    A
Come gather 'round me, people, there's a story I would tell
        B7                         A             E
About a brave young Indian, you should remember well;
          E                                  A
Frome the land of the Pima Indians, a proud and noble band,
          B7                               A    E
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land.
 
          E                                  A
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
         B7                               A                  E
Till the white man stole their water rights and their sparklin' water hushed
          E                                  A
Now Ira's folks were hungry and their land grew crops of weeds
         B7                               A                  E
When war came Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
 
          E                                  A
Well, they battled up Iwo Jima Hill - two hundred and fity men,
         B7                               A            E
But only twenty-seven lived - to walk back down again;
          E                                  A
When the fight was over - and Old Glory raised,
         B7                               A                E
Among the men who held it high was the Indian - Ira Hayes.
 
          E                                 A
Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land,
         B7                              A                  E
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand;
          E                                A
But he was just a Pima Indian, no water, no crops, no chance;
         B7                                  A                  E
And back home nobody cared what Ira'd done - and went to the Indians dance?
 
          E                                  A
Then Ira started drinin' hard - jail was often his home;
         B7                               A                  E
They let him raise the flag and lower it, like you throw a dog a bone;
          E                                   A
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he'd fought to save;
         B7                               A                  E
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch - was the grave for Ira Hayes.
 
           E                                  A
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes - but his land is still as dry,
         B7                               A                 E
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died.
          E                                  A
Chorus: Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;
         B7                               A                  E
Not the whiskey drinin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war
X