Текст песни Ballad of Ira Hayes - Johnny Cash
Call
him
drunken
Ira
Hayes
He
won't
answer
anymore
Not
the
whiskey
drinkin'
Indian
Nor,
the
Marine
that
went
to
war
About
a
brave
young
Indian,
that
we
should
remember
well
From
the
tribe
of
the
Pima
Indian
A
proud
and
peaceful
band
Who
farmed
the
Phoenix
Valley
in
Arizona
land
Down
the
ditches
for
a
thousand
years
'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
And
forgot
the
white
man's
greed
Call
him
drunken
Ira
Hayes
He
won't
answer
anymore
Not
the
whiskey
drinkin'
Indian
There
they
battled
up
Iwo
Jima's
hill
Two
hundred
and
fifty
men
But
only
twenty-seven
lived
To
fight
back
down
again
And
when
Old
Glory
raised
Among
the
men
that
held
it
high
Was
the
Indian,
Ira
Hayes
Call
him
drunken
Ira
Hayes
Not
the
whiskey
drinkin'
Indian
Nor,
the
Marine
that
went
to
war
Ira
Hayes
returned
a
hero
Celebrated
through
the
land
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
Ira
started
drinkin'
hard
Jail
was
often
his
home
There,
they'd
let
him
raise
a
flag
and
lower
it
Like
you'd
throw
a
dog
a
bone
Alone
in
the
land
he
fought
to
save
Two
inches
of
water
in
a
lonely
ditch
Was
a
grave
for
Ira
Hayes
Call
him
drunken
Ira
Hayes
Not
the
whiskey
drinkin'
Indian
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