Verse
E A Amaj7 F#m
Gather round me, people, and a story I will tell
B A Amaj7 E
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
A Amaj7 F#m
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band,
B A Amaj7 E
They farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land.
E A Amaj7 F#m
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed,
B A Amaj7 E
Till the white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed.
A Amaj7 F#m
Now Ira's folks were hungry, and their farms grew crops of weeds.
B A Amaj7 E
But when war came, he volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
E E/D# E7/D
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.
E E/D# E7/D
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.
E A Amaj7 F#m
They started up Iwo Jima hill, two hundred and fifty men,
B A Amaj7 E
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down that hill again.
E A Amaj7 F#m
And when the fight was over and Old Glory raised
B A Amaj7 E
One of the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes.
E E/D# E7/D
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.
E E/D# E7/D
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.
E A Amaj7 F#m
Now, Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
B A Amaj7 E
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
E A Amaj7 F#m
But he was just a Pima Indian - no money, no crops, no chance -
B A Amaj7 E
And at home nobody cared what Ira'd done, and when do the Indians dance?
E E/D# E7/D
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.
E E/D# E7/D
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.
E A Amaj7 F#m
Then Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home.
B A Amaj7 E
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone.
E A Amaj7 F#m
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he'd fought to save.
B A Amaj7 E
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
E E/D# E7/D
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.
E E/D# E7/D
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.
E A Amaj7 F#m
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry,
B A Amaj7 E
And his ghost is lying thirsty In the ditch where Ira died.
E E/D# E7/D
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
A Amaj7 F#m
He won't answer anymore,
B
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
A/E E
Or the Marine who went to war.