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
wined
whiskey
water
volunteers
throughout
there
weeds
their
still
sparkling
thousand
should
rushed
running
round
rights
remember
raised
started
people
peaceful
fight
throw
greed
stole
farmed
grave
early
raise
everybody
ditch
alone
folks
dance
white
morning
shook
crops
arizona
ditches
chance
story
drunken
about
again
drinking
marine
anymore
brave
hungry
where
lower
farms
ghost
tribe
proud
celebrated
drunk
thirsty
lived
returned
answer
cared
forgot
hushed
nobody
valley
fought
gather
honored
indians
hayes
glory
inches
phoenix
indian
years
lonely
lying
money
young
often
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