C G C

[Verse 1]
C                              F
Come gather 'round me, people, a story I'd like to tell
G                           F                             C
About a brave young Indian, that you should remember well
C                             F
From a tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and noble band
G                              F                    C
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley, down in Arizona land

[Verse 2]
C                                             F
Down their ditches for ten thousand years the sparkling waters rushed
G                                          F                                 C
Then the White Man stole the water rights, and all the running waters hushed
C                      F
Ira's folks go hungry, their farms grow crops of weeds
G                               F                            C
When war came, Ira volunteered; forgot the White Man's greed

[Chorus]
         C                            F
Call him drunken' Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
        G                              F                     C
Not the whiskey drinking Indian, the Marine that went to war

[Verse 3]
C                              F
They battled up Iwo Jima Hill, two-hundred and fifty men
G                          F                    C
Only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again
C                         F
When that fight was over, when Old Glory raised
G                                        F                 C
Among the men that held Her high was the Indian, Ira Hayes

[Verse 4]
C                          F
Well Ira came back a hero, he was celebrated throughout the land
G                                      F                        C
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
C                              F
But he was just a Pima Indian; had no money, no home, no chance
G                                          F                               C
In Arizona no one cared what Ira had done; just "When do the Indians dance?"

[Verse 5]
C                             F
So Ira started drinkin' hard, jail was often his home
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They let him raise the flag and lower it, like you'd throw a dog a bone
C                                     F
Well he died drunk early one morning, all alone in this land he'd fought to save
G                                               F                   C
Two inches of water in a lonesome ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes

[Chorus]
         C                            F
Call him drunken' Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
        G                              F                     C
Not the whiskey drinking Indian, the Marine that went to war

[Verse 5]
C                                 F
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry
G                                           F                  C
And his ghost is lyin' thirsty inside the ditch where Ira died