Verse
G C Cmaj7 Am
Gather round me, people, and a story I will tell
D C Cmaj7 G
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
C Cmaj7 Am
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band,
D C Cmaj7 G
They farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land.
G C Cmaj7 Am
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed,
D C Cmaj7 G
Till the white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed.
C Cmaj7 Am
Now Ira's folks were hungry, and their farms grew crops of weeds.
D C Cmaj7 G
But when war came, he volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
G G/F# G7/F
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
G G/F# G7/F
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
G C Cmaj7 Am
They started up Iwo Jima hill, two hundred and fifty men,
D C Cmaj7 G
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down that hill again.
G C Cmaj7 Am
And when the fight was over and Old Glory raised
D C Cmaj7 G
One of the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes.
G G/F# G7/F
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
G G/F# G7/F
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
G C Cmaj7 Am
Now, Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
D C Cmaj7 G
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
G C Cmaj7 Am
But he was just a Pima Indian - no money, no crops, no chance -
D C Cmaj7 G
And at home nobody cared what Ira'd done, and when do the Indians dance?
G G/F# G7/F
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
G G/F# G7/F
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
G C Cmaj7 Am
Then Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home.
D C Cmaj7 G
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone.
G C Cmaj7 Am
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he'd fought to save.
D C Cmaj7 G
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
G G/F# G7/F
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
G G/F# G7/F
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
G C Cmaj7 Am
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry,
D C Cmaj7 G
And his ghost is lying thirsty In the ditch where Ira died.
G G/F# G7/F
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
C Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
C/G G
Or the Marine who went to war.
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