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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes - Kris Kristofferson

Kris Kristofferson

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Cifra de The Ballad Of Ira Hayes - Kris Kristofferson

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Primeiro acorde: C 3 acordes identificados

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.

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Kris Kristofferson

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