Lyrics
Those other years, those dusty years
When we drove the big herds through
I tried to forget the miles we rode
And Spanish Johnny, you
He'd sit beside a water ditch
When all his herds was in
And he'd never harm a child
But sang to his mandolin
He sang the old songs, the old talk
And the dealings of our game
Spanish Johnny seldom spoke
But sang the songs of Spain
And his talk with men was vicious talk
When he was drunk on gin
But those were golden things
He said to his mandolin
We had to stand, we had to judge
We had to stop him then
See those hands so gentle to a child
Had killed so many men
He died a hard death long ago
Before the roads came in
And the night before he swung
He sung to his mandolin
We carried him out in the morning light
A man who'd done no good
We laid him down in the cold, cold clay
Stuck in a cross of wood
And then a letter we wrote to his kinfolk
To tell 'em where he'd been
We shipped it on down to Mexico
Along with the mandolin