Ira Hayes Ira Hayes Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war Gather round me people there's a story I would tell About a brave young Indian you should remember well From the land of the Pima Indian, a proud and noble band Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land Down the ditches of thousand years The water grew Ira's peoples' crops 'Till the white man stole the water rights And the sparklin' water stopped Now Ira's folks were hungry And their land grew crops of weeds When war came, Ira volunteered And forgot the white man's greed Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill Two hundred and fifty men But only twenty-seven lived To walk back down again And when the fight was over And Old Glory raised Among the men who held it high Was the Indian, Ira Hayes Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war Ira,he is returned a hero Celebrated through the land He was wined and speeched and honored Everybody shook his hand But he was just a Pima Indian No water, no home, no chance At home nobody cared what Ira'd done And when did the Indians dance Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war Then Ira started drinkin' hard Jail was often his home They'd let him raise the flag and lower it Like you'd throw a dog a bone He died drunk early one mornin' Alone in the land he fought to save Two inches of water in a lonely ditch Was a grave for Ira Hayes Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes But his land is just as dry And his ghost is lying thirsty In the ditch where Ira died

The old gunfighter stood on the porch And stared into the sun And relived all the old days Back when he was livin' by the gun When deadly games of pride were played And livin' was mistakes not made And the thought of the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke The thought of the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke And it's always keep your back to the sun And you can almost feel the weight of that gun It's faster than snakes or a blink of the eye And it's a time for all slow men to die His eyes get squinty and he's straight as a log As he empties his gun at the dirty dog And he's hit by the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Hit by the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Now the burn of a bullet is only a scar And he's back in his chair in front of a bar And the streets are empty and the blood's all dried The dead are dust and the whiskey's inside So buy him a drink and lend him an ear He's nobody's fool and he's the only one here Who remembers the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Remembers the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Said I stood in that street before it was paved I learned to shoot or be shot before I could shave And I did it all for the money and the fame Noble was nothing but feelin' no shame And nothing was sacred but stayin' alive And all that I learned from a Colt .45 Was to cuss the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Cuss the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke Now he's just an old man that nobody believes Says he's a gunfighter the last of this breed And there's ghosts in the street seekin' revenge Callin' him out to the lunatic fringe He's out in the traffic now checking the sun And he's killed by a car as he goes for his gun So much for the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke So much for the smell of the black powder smoke And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke