G C Cmaj7 Am Gather round me, people, and a story I will tellD C Cmaj7 G About a brave young Indian you should remember wellC Cmaj7 Am From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band,D C Cmaj7 G They farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land.G C Cmaj7 Am Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed,D C Cmaj7 G Till the white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed.C Cmaj7 Am Now Ira's folks were hungry, and their farms grew crops of weeds.D C Cmaj7 G But when war came, he volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.G G/F# G7/F Call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.G G/F# G7/F Yes, call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.G C Cmaj7 Am They started up Iwo Jima hill, two hundred and fifty men,D C Cmaj7 G But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down that hill again.G C Cmaj7 Am And when the fight was over and Old Glory raisedD C Cmaj7 G One of the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes.G G/F# G7/F Call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.G G/F# G7/F Yes, call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.G C Cmaj7 Am Now, Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the landD C Cmaj7 G He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.G C Cmaj7 Am But he was just a Pima Indian - no money, no crops, no chance -D C Cmaj7 G And at home nobody cared what Ira'd done, and when do the Indians dance?G G/F# G7/F Call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.G G/F# G7/F Yes, call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.G C Cmaj7 Am Then Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home.D C Cmaj7 G They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone.G C Cmaj7 Am He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he'd fought to save.D C Cmaj7 G Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.G G/F# G7/F Call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.G G/F# G7/F Yes, call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.G C Cmaj7 Am Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry,D C Cmaj7 G And his ghost is lying thirsty In the ditch where Ira died.G G/F# G7/F Call him drunken Ira HayesC Cmaj7 Am He won't answer anymore,D Not the whiskey-drinking IndianC/G G Or the Marine who went to war.
The Ballad Of Ira Hayes
Bob Dylan
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Tom: