whisky in the rocks

[Per Eriksson]

American Pie

And them good 'ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye singin'

This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die.

[paer]

Steve Earl - Copperheard Road

[ardbeg67]

Perfekt låt till en provning av amerikansk whiskey

The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

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.

[MacNilsson]

Den gamle hedersmannen Nick Cave slår ju ganska ordentligt in spiken i tunnan med sin Rye Whiskey..

I said whiskey, rye whiskey, whiskey I cried

If I don't get rye whiskey i surley will die

If the sea were made of Whiskey and I was a duck

I'd swim to the bottom and never come up

Oh, but the sea ain't made of Whiskey and I ain't a duck

So I play Jack Of Diamonds and trust on my luck

I sanning en psalm så välsignad som någon..(censurerat) vad det svänger