| Lyrics: | (Paul Siebel)
Those other years, the dusty years
We drove the big hers through
I tried
to forget the miles we rode
And Spanish Johnny too
He'd sit beside a water ditch when all
this herd was in
And he'd never harm a child but sing to his mandolin
The old talk, the
old ways, and the dealin' of our game
But Spanish Johnny never spoke, but sing a song of
Spain
And his talk with men was vicious talk
When he was drunk on gin
Ah, but those were
golden things he said to his mandolin
We had to stand, we tried to judge, we had to stop
him then
For the hand so gentle to a child had killed so many men
He died a hard death long
ago before the road come in
And the night before he swung he sung to his mandolin
Well,
we carried him out in the mornin' sun
A man that done no good
And we lowered him down in the
cold clay
Stuck in a cross of wood
And a letter we wrote to his kinfolk
To tell them
where he'd been
And we shipped it out to Mexico, along with his mandolin |
