The Ballad Of Ira Hayes
(Johnny Cash)

(LaFarge)
1988 PolyGram Records Inc. (new version)

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
nor the marine that went to war

Gather 'round me people
there's a story I would tell
About a brave young Indian
that we should remember well

From the tribe of the Pima Indians
a proud and peaceful band
Who farmed the Phoenix valley
in Arizona land

Down their ditches for a thousand years
the water fed Ira's people's crops
Till the white man came and stole their water rights
and the sparkling water stopped

Now Ira's folks were hungry
and the land grew crops of weeds
But when war came Ira volunteered
and forgot the white man's greed

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
nor the marine that went to war

Then they battled up Iwo Jima hill
two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived
to fight back down again

And when that fight was over
and the old Glory raised
Among the men to hold it high
was the Indian Ira Hayes

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
nor the marine that went to war

Ira Hayes returned a hero
celebrated through the land
He was wined and speeched and honored
everybody shook his hand

But he was just a Pima Indian
No water, no crops, no chance
At home nobody cared what Ira had done
And when did the Indians dance?

Ira started drinking hard
Jail was often his home
There they'd let him raise the flag and lower it
Like you throw a dog a bone

He died drunk, early one morning
alone in the land he fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
was a grave for Ira Hayes

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
nor the marine that went to war

Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes
but his land is just as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty
in the ditch where Ira died