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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes - Bob Dylan

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Gather round you people and a story I will tell

About a brave young Indian you should remember well

From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band

They farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land

Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed

Till their white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed

Now Ira's folks were hungry and their farms wene crops of weeds

But when war came he volunteers and forgot, the white man's greed

Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore

Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war

Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore

Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

They started up Iwo Jima Hill, 250 men

But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again

And when the fight was over and the old glory raised

One of the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes

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