The Ballad Of Ira Hayes chords by Townes Van Zandt

SimplifiedD · G · A · Am · Bb

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Verse 1
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The liquor stores on the edge
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of the reservations are made out of cement,
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solid cement with iron doors.
Come gather round me, people,
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a story I'd like to tell
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About a brave young Indian
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that you should remember well
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From a tribe of Pima Indians,
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a proud and noble band,
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Farmed the Phoenix Valley
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down in Arizona land.
Down the ditches for ten thousand years
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the sparkling waters rushed,
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Then the white man stole the water rights
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and all the running waters hushed.
The Naira's folks go hungry
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and their farms grow crops of weeds
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When war came, Naira volunteered
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and forgot the white man's greed
Call him drunken Naira Hayes,
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he won't an swer any more
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Not the whiskey -drinkin' Indian,
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the Marine that went to war
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They battled up Iwo Jima Hill, 250 men
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And only 27 lived to
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walk back down again
And when that fight was over,
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an d when old glory raised
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Well, among the men that held her high
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was the Indian Ira Hayes
You call him drunken Ira Hayes,
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he can't answer anymore
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Not the whiskey -drinkin' Indy,
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the Marine that went to war
Well, Ira came back a hero
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He was celebrated throughout the land
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He was whined and speeched
and honored
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Everybody shook his hand
But he was just a Pima Indian
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Had no money, no home, no chance
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In Arizona, no one cared
what Ira had done
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It's when did the Indians dance
And so Ira started drinkin' hard
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and jail was off in his home
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They let him raise the flag and lower it
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Like you'd throw a dog or bone
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Well, he died drunk early one morning
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All alone in this land he'd fought to save
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Two inches of water in a lonesome ditch
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was a  grave for Ira Hayes
Call him Drunken Ira Hayes,
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he won't an swer any more
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Not the whiskey -drinkin' Indian,
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the Marine that went to war
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes,
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but his land is still as dry
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And his ghost is lying thirsty
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inside the ditch where Ira died
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Thanks.