Hugues Aufray - La ballade d'Ira l'Indien Лирицс транслатион то енглисх

English
Translation

The ballad of Ira the Injun

Listen up, all of y'all!
Imma sing y'all a story
It's the true story of a young Injun
That we should remember well
He was from the Pima tribe
A proud and peaceful people
That lived in Arizona
In the Phoenix valley
The Pima'd always irrigated that valley
And the water sang day and night
In the streams and ditches
But one day, the white man came
A-sowing war and misery
The Injun streams fell silent
The prairie became a desert
For the tribe of the young Ira
It was shame and famine
But when the war broke out
He enlisted in the Marines
 

Call him a dirty Injun
He won't answer anymore
Neither the Injun, nor the Marine
They are drowned in gin Call him a dirty Pima
He won't answer anymore
But the gin drinkin' Injun
He was the hero of the Marines
 

On the hill of Iwo Jima
Two hundred fifty men went up
But at the end of the battle
Only twenty-seven remained
And of these famous Marines
It was him, the young Injun,
Who planted Old Glory
On the hill
Upon his return to the U.S.
Ira the Injun was celebrated
With him, the symbol of these soldiers, people came and shook hands
But he was just a Pima With no money, an Injun with nothing
And what he'd done there Didn't count for the Injuns So Ira started drinkin' hard
Jail was often his home
They'd let him raise the flag
Like you'd throw a dog a bone
 

Call him a dirty Injun
He won't answer anymore
Neither the Injun, nor the Marine
They are drowned in gin Call him a dirty Pima
He won't answer anymore
But the gin drinkin' Injun
He was the hero of the Marines
 

He died alone in the land
He fought so well to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
Was the last bed for the Injun
 

Call him a dirty Injun
He won't answer anymore
Neither the Injun, nor the Marine
They are drowned in gin Call him a dirty Pima
He won't answer anymore
But the gin drinkin' Injun
He was the hero of the Marines
 

Yeah, call him a dirty drunkard
But these lands remain thirsty
And his ghost is lyin' in the bed of a stream
An Injun stream forever dried up
 

Call him a dirty Injun
He won't answer anymore
Neither the Injun, nor the Marine
They are drowned in gin Call him a dirty Pima
He won't answer anymore
But the gin drinkin' Injun
He was the hero of the Marines
 




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