Verse
D G Gmaj7 Em
Gather round me, people, and a story I will tell
A G Gmaj7 D
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
G Gmaj7 Em
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band,
A G Gmaj7 D
They farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land.
D G Gmaj7 Em
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed,
A G Gmaj7 D
Till the white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed.
G Gmaj7 Em
Now Ira's folks were hungry, and their farms grew crops of weeds.
A G Gmaj7 D
But when war came, he volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
D D/C# D7/C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.
D D/C# D7/C
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.
D G Gmaj7 Em
They started up Iwo Jima hill, two hundred and fifty men,
A G Gmaj7 D
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down that hill again.
D G Gmaj7 Em
And when the fight was over and Old Glory raised
A G Gmaj7 D
One of the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes.
D D/C# D7/C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.
D D/C# D7/C
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.
D G Gmaj7 Em
Now, Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
A G Gmaj7 D
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
D G Gmaj7 Em
But he was just a Pima Indian - no money, no crops, no chance -
A G Gmaj7 D
And at home nobody cared what Ira'd done, and when do the Indians dance?
D D/C# D7/C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.
D D/C# D7/C
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.
D G Gmaj7 Em
Then Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home.
A G Gmaj7 D
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone.
D G Gmaj7 Em
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he'd fought to save.
A G Gmaj7 D
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
D D/C# D7/C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.
D D/C# D7/C
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.
D G Gmaj7 Em
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry,
A G Gmaj7 D
And his ghost is lying thirsty In the ditch where Ira died.
D D/C# D7/C
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
G Gmaj7 Em
He won't answer anymore,
A
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
G/D D
Or the Marine who went to war.