The Ballad of Ira Hayes
Bob Dylan Lyrics


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Gather round me people, and a story I will tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band
They farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till the white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
Now Ira's folks were hungry, and their farms grew crops of weeds
But when war came, he volunteered and forgot the white man's greed

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war
Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war

They started up Iwo Jima hill, two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down that hill again
And when the fight was over and Old Glory raised
One of the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war

Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
But he was just a Pima Indian - no money, no crops, no chance
And at home nobody cared what Ira'd done, and when do the Indians dance?

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war

Then Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he'd fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war

Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died

Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore




Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
Or the Marine who went to war

Overall Meaning

The Ballad of Ira Hayes tells the story of a Pima Native American named Ira Hayes, who fought in World War II as a Marine, became famous for being one of the soldiers who raised the American flag on Iwo Jima, and was later haunted by the harsh realities of American Indian life. The lyrics describe how the white settlers took the Pima's water, leaving them hungry and unable to grow crops, which ultimately led Ira to volunteer for the military. Despite being celebrated as a hero when he returned home, Ira was still a poor, uneducated Indian who struggled to cope with what he had seen at war. He turned to alcohol as a way of easing the pain, but it only led to his tragic death. The song serves as a social commentary on the way Native Americans are treated in American society, and honors the sacrifices made by those who fought and died for their country.


One interesting fact about The Ballad of Ira Hayes is that it was written by Peter La Farge, a Native American folk singer and songwriter who was heavily influenced by Bob Dylan. La Farge was also a veteran of the Korean War, and he wrote the song as a tribute to Ira Hayes, who he believed was an unsung hero of World War II. Another interesting fact is that Johnny Cash covered the song on his 1964 album Bitter Tears: Ballads of the American Indian, which was a concept album that focused on the injustices suffered by Native Americans throughout American history. Cash's version of the song became a hit, and it helped to raise awareness of Native American issues.


Line by Line Meaning

Gather round me people, and a story I will tell
Listen to my story


About a brave young Indian you should remember well
This is about Ira Hayes, a brave young Indian


From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band
Ira Hayes was from the proud and peaceful Pima Indian tribe


They farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land
The Pima Indians farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona


Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
The Pima Indians had been using their irrigation ditches for a long time and they worked very well


Till the white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
When the white man took the Pima Indian's water rights, their ability to irrigate their land was severely limited and they could not farm well


Now Ira's folks were hungry, and their farms grew crops of weeds
Because of the limitations on their water use, Ira's people were struggling to grow crops and were going hungry


But when war came, he volunteered and forgot the white man's greed
When the war came, Ira Hayes decided to volunteer and fight for his country, even though the white man had taken his land


Call him drunken Ira Hayes
People often refer to Ira Hayes as a drunken person


He won't answer anymore
Ira Hayes is now dead and cannot defend himself against those accusations


Not the whiskey-drinking Indian
It's not just because he was an Indian who drank whiskey


Or the Marine who went to war
Nor was it just because he was a Marine who went to war


They started up Iwo Jima hill, two hundred and fifty men
Ira and 249 other men were sent to fight at Iwo Jima


But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down that hill again
Most of the men sent to Iwo Jima did not make it back alive


And when the fight was over and Old Glory raised
When the battle was won, the American flag was raised


One of the men who held it high was the Indian, Ira Hayes
Ira Hayes was one of the men who raised the flag at Iwo Jima


Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
When he returned to America, he was celebrated for his bravery


He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
Ira received many commendations and congratulations for his service


But he was just a Pima Indian - no money, no crops, no chance
Despite his heroism, Ira was still a Pima Indian and had nothing to show for it


And at home nobody cared what Ira'd done, and when do the Indians dance?
Even though he was a hero, when he returned home, nobody appreciated what he had done for his country, and the Indians were still suffering


Then Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
Ira began drinking heavily and struggled to find a home after returning from the war


They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone
Even though he was a hero, people treated Ira poorly, like throwing a dog a bone


He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he'd fought to save
Ira died an alcoholic and was buried alone in the land he had fought to save


Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes
Ira was buried in a shallow ditch that only had two inches of water


Yes, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry
People can continue to call Ira Hayes a drunk, but the land he fought to save is still struggling without adequate water


And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died
Ira Hayes' spirit may still be present in the arid land where he died




Lyrics © CARLIN AMERICA INC
Written by: PETER LAFARGE

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comments from YouTube:

Marcos Guilherme

A Balada de Ira Haye
Aproximem-se todos e eu vou lhes contar uma história
Sobre um bravo jovem índio que vocês devem se lembrar bem
Da tribo dos Pima, um orgulho e um grupo pacífico
Eles cuidavam das terras do Vale de Phoenix no Arizona
Por mil anos as águas espumantes lavaram seus túmulos
Até que o homem branco roubou os seus direitos de água e da água corrente silenciosa
Agora a gente de Ira estava com fome e suas fazendas cheias de plantas daninhas
Mas quando a guerra chegou, ele se voluntáriou e esqueceu, a ganância do homem branco
Chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, ele não vai mais responder
Não o índio bebedor de uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra
Sim, chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, ele não vai mais responder
Não o índio bebedor uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra.

Eles estavam em Iwo Jima Hill, 250 homens no começo
Mas apenas 27 viveram para descer aquela colina uma vez mais
E quando a luta tinha terminado e a velha bandeira foi erguida
Um dos homens que a manteve no alto foi o índio Ira Hayes
Chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, mas responder
Não o índio bebedor de uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra
Sim, chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, ele não vai mais responder
Não o índio bebedor uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra.

Agora Ira retornou como um herói, ccelebrado em todo o país
Ele foi ovacionado e homenageado e honrado, todos aperteram asua mão
Mas ele era apenas um índio Pima, sem dinheiro cultura, sem chance
E em casa ninguém se importava com o Ira tinha feito ou o que foi feito do índio.
Chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, ele não vai mais responder
Não o índio bebedor de uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra
Sim, chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, ele não vai mais responder
Não o índio bebedor uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra.
Não o índio bebedor de uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra.

Ira caiu na bebida, a cadeiamuitas vezes foi sua casa
Eles deixaram-no levantar a bandeira lá e o jogaram de lado como você jogaria um osso a um cão.
Ele em uma manhã,bêbado, sozinho na terra que ele tinha lutado para salvar
Dois centímetros de água em uma vala solitária foi o túmulo de Ira Hayes
Chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, mas ele não vai mais responder
Não o índio bebedor de uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra
Sim, chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, ele não vai mais responder
Não o índio bebedor uísque, ou o soldado que foi para a guerra.

Sim, chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, mas sua terra continua seca
E seu fantasma jaz sedento na vala em que Ira morreu
Sim, Chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, ele não vai mais responder.
Não o índio bebedor de uísque ou o soldado que foi para a guerra
Sim, chamem-no de Ira Bêbado Hayes, ele não vai mais responder
Não o índio bebedor de uísque ou o soldado que foi para a guerra.



Juan Camacho

Gather round you people and a story I will tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band
They farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
'Til the white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
Now Ira's folks were hungry and their farms when crops of weeds
But when war came he volunteers and forgot the white man's greed

Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war

They started up Iwo Jima Hill, 250 men
But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again
And when the fight was over and the old glory raised
One of the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes

Call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war

Now Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
But he was just a Pima Indian, no money crops, no chance
And at home nobody cared what Ira had done, and the wind did the Indian's Dance

Call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war

And Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he had fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes

Call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war

Yes, call him, drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died
Call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war



All comments from YouTube:

WynneBear

Dylan is at his best singing voice when talking about people wronged.

George Esau

For the folks that say Dylan writes great songs but can't sing. He didn't write this and you're just flat out wrong if you say he can't sing.

Jason Skorik

Bloody good point my friend

Pawel Sawicki

Everybody can sing, luckily for all of us, everybody sings differently

Brendan Michaels

My favorite version of this incredible song

Gumper Van Lier

This is the best version that I've ever heard. Dylan does it!

Sheryl Mac

No it isn’t Johnny Cash!

Gumper Van Lier

@Sheryl Mac I also love Johnny Cash. Two legends.

Sheryl Mac

@Gumper Van Lier so much this!

Robert Fields

Fantastic version with this gospel touch.

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