G                                C     Cmaj7    Am
Gather round me, people, and a story I will tell
D                          C         Cmaj7      G
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
                                  C          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 Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/G                G
Or the Marine who went to war.
              G      G/F# G7/F
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/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 raised
D                                   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 Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/G                G
Or the Marine who went to war.
              G      G/F# G7/F
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/G               G
Or the Marine who went to war.

G                                C     Cmaj7    Am
Now, Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
D                               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 Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/G                G
Or the Marine who went to war.
              G      G/F# G7/F
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/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 Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/G                G
Or the Marine who went to war.
              G      G/F# G7/F
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/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 Hayes
         C    Cmaj7 Am
He won't answer anymore,
        D
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
       C/G                G
Or the Marine who went to war.