Verse
A D Dmaj7 Bm
Gather round me, people, and a story I will tell
E D Dmaj7 A
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
D Dmaj7 Bm
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band,
E D Dmaj7 A
They farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land.
A D Dmaj7 Bm
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed,
E D Dmaj7 A
Till the white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed.
D Dmaj7 Bm
Now Ira's folks were hungry, and their farms grew crops of weeds.
E D Dmaj7 A
But when war came, he volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
A A/G# A7/G
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.
A A/G# A7/G
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.
A D Dmaj7 Bm
They started up Iwo Jima hill, two hundred and fifty men,
E D Dmaj7 A
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down that hill again.
A D Dmaj7 Bm
And when the fight was over and Old Glory raised
E D Dmaj7 A
One of the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes.
A A/G# A7/G
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.
A A/G# A7/G
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.
A D Dmaj7 Bm
Now, Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
E D Dmaj7 A
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
A D Dmaj7 Bm
But he was just a Pima Indian - no money, no crops, no chance -
E D Dmaj7 A
And at home nobody cared what Ira'd done, and when do the Indians dance?
A A/G# A7/G
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.
A A/G# A7/G
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.
A D Dmaj7 Bm
Then Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home.
E D Dmaj7 A
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone.
A D Dmaj7 Bm
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he'd fought to save.
E D Dmaj7 A
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
A A/G# A7/G
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.
A A/G# A7/G
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.
A D Dmaj7 Bm
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry,
E D Dmaj7 A
And his ghost is lying thirsty In the ditch where Ira died.
A A/G# A7/G
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
D Dmaj7 Bm
He won't answer anymore,
E
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
D/A A
Or the Marine who went to war.