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作词 : Peter Lafarge |
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作曲 : Peter Lafarge |
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Artist：johnny cash |
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Songs Title：the ballad of ira hayes |
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Ira Hayes |
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Call him drunken Ira Hayes |
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He won't answer anymore |
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Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian |
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Nor the Marine that went to war |
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Gather round me people there's a story I would tell |
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About a brave young Indian you should remember well |
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From the land of the Pima Indian |
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A proud and noble band |
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Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land |
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Down the ditches for a thousand years |
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The water grew Ira's peoples' crops |
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'Till the white man stole the water rights |
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And the sparklin' water stopped |
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Now Ira's folks were hungry |
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And their land grew crops of shits |
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When war came, Ira volunteered |
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And forgot the white man's greed |
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Call him drunken Ira Hayes |
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He won't answer anymore |
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Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian |
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Nor the Marine that went to war |
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There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill, |
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Two hundred and fifty men |
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But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again |
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And when the fight was over |
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And when Old Glory raised |
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Among the men who held it high |
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Was the Indian, Ira Hayes |
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Call him drunken Ira Hayes |
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He won't answer anymore |
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Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian |
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Nor the Marine that went to war |
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Ira returned a hero |
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Celebrated through the land |
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He was wined and speeched and honored; |
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Everybody shook his hand |
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But he was just a Pima Indian |
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No water, no crops, no chance |
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At home nobody cared what Ira'd done |
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And when did the Indians dance |
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Call him drunken Ira Hayes |
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He won't answer anymore |
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Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian |
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Nor the Marine that went to war |
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|
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Then Ira started drinkin' hard; |
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Jail was often his home |
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They'd let him raise the flag and lower it |
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like you'd throw a dog a bone! |
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He died drunk one mornin' |
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Alone in the land he fought to save |
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Two inches of water in a lonely ditch |
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Was a grave for Ira Hayes |
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Call him drunken Ira Hayes |
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He won't answer anymore |
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Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian |
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Nor the Marine that went to war |
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Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes |
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But his land is just as dry |
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And his ghost is lyin' thirsty |
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In the ditch where Ira died |
