Johnny Cash – Ballad Of Ira Hayes (Ukulele)

         C           F
 Ira Hayes,  Ira Hayes.

          C                           F
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         G                                 C
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

C                                    F
 Gather 'round me, people. There's a story I would tell

 G                            C
 'bout a brave young Indian you should remember well,

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

 G                               C
 who farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land.

 C                                         F
 Down their ditches 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.

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

 G                                   C
 When the war came, Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.

          C                            F
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         G                                  C
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

            C                        F
 There they battled up Iwo Jima Hill; 250 men,

G                     C
 but only 27 lived to walk back down again.

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

G                                       C
 among the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes.

          C                           F
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         G                                  C
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

     C                       F
 Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated through the land.

        G                                 C
 He was wined and speeched and honored, ev'rybody shook his hand.

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

    G
 At home nobody cared what Ira had done.

     C
 And when do the Indians dance?

          C                            F
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         G                                 C
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

      C                        F
 Then 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.

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

G                                             C
 Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was a grave for Ira Hayes.

          C                            F
 Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore;

         G                                C
 not the whiskey drinkin' Indian, nor the marine that went to war.

                C                F
 Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is just as dry,

G                              C
 and his ghost is lyin' thirsty in the ditch were Ira died.