Johnny Cash – Ballad Of Ira Hayes (Guitar)

         A           D
 Ira Hayes,  Ira Hayes.

          A                           D
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         E                                 A
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

A                                    D
 Gather 'round me, people. There's a story I would tell

 E                            A
 'bout a brave young Indian you should remember well,

                                   D
 from the land of the Pima Indians,  a proud and nobel band,

 E                               A
 who farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land.

 A                                         D
 Down their ditches a thousand years, the waters grew Ira's people's crops

          E                                          A
 till the white man stole their water rights and the sparklin' water stopped.

                               D
 Now, Ira's folks were hungry and their land grew crops of weeds.

 E                                   A
 When the war came, Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.

          A                            D
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         E                                  A
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

            A                        D
 There they battled up Iwo Jima Hill; 250 men,

E                     A
 but only 27 lived to walk back down again.

                              D
 And when the fight was over, and Old Glory raised,

E                                       A
 among the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes.

          A                           D
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         E                                  A
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

     A                       D
 Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated through the land.

        E                                 A
 He was wined and speeched and honored, ev'rybody shook his hand.

                                D
 But he was just a Pima Indian; no water, no home, no chance.

    E
 At home nobody cared what Ira had done.

     A
 And when do the Indians dance?

          A                            D
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         E                                 A
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

      A                        D
 Then Ira started drinkin' hard; jail was often his home.

      E                                        A
 They let him raise the flag and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone.

                                D
 He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he fought to save.

E                                             A
 Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was a grave for Ira Hayes.

          A                            D
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         E                                A
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

                A                D
 Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is just as dry,

E                              A
 and his ghost is lyin' thirsty in the ditch were Ira died.