>This post, fwd to the Science-for-the-people list,
gives an
interesting
>perspective on Cash. I particularly liked the
observation on Cash's
>non-romanticization of "farm livin," since 60 years
ago I was as
anxious
>to get away from midwestern "farm livin" as Cash was
from the southern
>version.
Nothing like obituaries and memorials to help you catch up on a life you followed only casually. Bravo reran their Cash bio the other night, where I learned what a friend of American Indians he was. Wonderful guy.
Doug ******************************************************
I'll never forget the voice of Johnny Cash coming over juke box on Okinawa, time after, time after time, as I waited with others for orders to be cut for a return Stateside on a Marine Corps base in a 'club'in 1965. And it was always the same song:
Ira Hayes, Ira Hayes
CHORUS: 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 for a 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
CHORUS: 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 when Old Glory raised Among the men who held it high Was the Indian, Ira Hayes
CHORUS: Call him drunken Ira Hayes He won't answer anymore Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian Nor the Marine that went to war
Ira 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 crops, no chance At home nobody cared what Ira'd done And when did the Indians dance
CHORUS: 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 one mornin' Alone in the land he fought to save Two inches of water in a lonely ditch Was a grave for Ira Hayes
CHORUS: 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 lyin' thirsty In the ditch where Ira died
http://www.toptown.com/hp/66/irahayes.htm
Regards, Mike B)
===== ***************************************************************** We have nothing that is ours except time, which even those without a roof can enjoy.
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