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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

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Kris Kristofferson

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Intro
C

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Verso 1]
                 C                 F
Gather round me, people, there's a story I would tell,
 G                                     C
About the brave young Indian who you'd soon remember well;
         C                           F
From the land of the Pima Indians, a proud and noble band,
    G                            C
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land.

[Verso 2]
           C                                F
Down their ditches for a thousand years the waters grew Ira's people's crops,
         G                                          C
Till the white man stole their water rights and the sparklin' water stopped.
    C                            F
Now Ira's folks grew hungry, and their lands grew crops of weeds.
     G                                     C
Now when war came out, Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Verso 3]
     C                        F
They battled up Iwo Jima hill   two hundred and fifty men,
G                                C
  But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again;
C                       F
When the fight was over   and Old Glory raised
 G                                     C
Among the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes.

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Verso 4]
 C                         F
Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated through the land,
       G                                    C
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand;
           C                      F
But he was just a Pima Indian; no water, no land, no chance;
G                                          C
  Back home nobody cared what Ira done and when did the Indians dance?

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Verso 5]
C                          F
Ira started drinkin' hard,   jail was often his home;
             G                                       C
They let him raise the flag and lower it, like you'd throw a dog a bone;
        C                                    F
He died drunk early one morning alone in the land he'd fought to save;
    G                                          C
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch, was the grave for Ira Hayes.

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Refrão]
              C
Yea, call him drunken Ira Hayes,
F
  But his land is just as dry,
G
  And his ghost is lying thirsty
       C
In the ditch where Ira died.

{Trumpet Instrumental}
N.C.

C

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Verso 1]
                 C                 F
Gather round me, people, there's a story I would tell,
 G                                     C
About the brave young Indian who you'd soon remember well;
         C                           F
From the land of the Pima Indians, a proud and noble band,
    G                            C
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land.

[Verso 2]
           C                                F
Down their ditches for a thousand years the waters grew Ira's people's crops,
         G                                          C
Till the white man stole their water rights and the sparklin' water stopped.
    C                            F
Now Ira's folks grew hungry, and their lands grew crops of weeds.
     G                                     C
Now when war came out, Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Verso 3]
     C                        F
They battled up Iwo Jima hill   two hundred and fifty men,
G                                C
  But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again;
C                       F
When the fight was over   and Old Glory raised
 G                                     C
Among the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes.

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Verso 4]
 C                         F
Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated through the land,
       G                                    C
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand;
           C                      F
But he was just a Pima Indian; no water, no land, no chance;
G                                          C
  Back home nobody cared what Ira done and when did the Indians dance?

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Verso 5]
C                          F
Ira started drinkin' hard,   jail was often his home;
             G                                       C
They let him raise the flag and lower it, like you'd throw a dog a bone;
        C                                    F
He died drunk early one morning alone in the land he'd fought to save;
    G                                          C
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch, was the grave for Ira Hayes.

[Refrão]
         C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
         F
He won't answer anymore,
        G
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
       C
Or the Marine who went to war.

[Refrão]
              C
Yea, call him drunken Ira Hayes,
F
  But his land is just as dry,
G
  And his ghost is lying thirsty
       C
In the ditch where Ira died.

{Trumpet Instrumental}
N.C.

Intro C [Refrão] C Call him drunken Ira Hayes F He won't answer anymore, G Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian, C Or the Marine who went to war. [Verso 1] C F Gather round me, people, there's a story I would tell, G C About the brave young Indian who you'd soon remember well; C F From the land of the Pima Indians, a proud and noble band, G C Who farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land. [Verso 2] C F Down their ditches for a thousand years the waters grew Ira's people's crops, G C Till the white man stole their water rights and the sparklin' water stopped. C F Now Ira's folks grew hungry, and their lands grew crops of weeds. G C Now when war came out, Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed. [Refrão] C Call him drunken Ira Hayes F He won't answer anymore, G Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian, C Or the Marine who went to war. [Verso 3] C F They battled up Iwo Jima hill two hundred and fifty men, G C But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again; C F When the fight was over and Old Glory raised G C Among the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes. [Refrão] C Call him drunken Ira Hayes F He won't answer anymore, G Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian, C Or the Marine who went to war. [Verso 4] C F Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated through the land, G C He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand; C F But he was just a Pima Indian; no water, no land, no chance; G C Back home nobody cared what Ira done and when did the Indians dance? [Refrão] C Call him drunken Ira Hayes F He won't answer anymore, G Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian, C Or the Marine who went to war. [Verso 5] C F Ira started drinkin' hard, jail was often his home; G C They let him raise the flag and lower it, like you'd throw a dog a bone; C F He died drunk early one morning alone in the land he'd fought to save; G C Two inches of water in a lonely ditch, was the grave for Ira Hayes. [Refrão] C Call him drunken Ira Hayes F He won't answer anymore, G Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian, C Or the Marine who went to war. [Refrão] C Yea, call him drunken Ira Hayes, F But his land is just as dry, G And his ghost is lying thirsty C In the ditch where Ira died. {Trumpet Instrumental} N.C.