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  • (Paul Siebel)
    Those other years, those dusty years
    We drove the big herds through
    I tried to forget the miles we rode
    And Spanish
    Johnny too
    He'd sit beside a water ditch when all his herd was in
    And he'd never harm a child but sang to his mandolin
    He sang the old talk, the old ways, the dealins' 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
    Ah, but those were golden things he said to his mandolin
    We had to stand, we had 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 roads came in
    And the night before he swung he sung to his mandolin
    Well, we carried him out in the morning light
    A man who'd done no good
    And we lowered him down in the cold, 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 on down to
    Mexico, along with his mandolin
  • (Paul Siebel)
    Those other years, those dusty years
    We drove the big herds through
    I tried to forget the miles we rode
    And Spanish
    Johnny too
    He'd sit beside a water ditch when all his herd was in
    And he'd never harm a child but sang to his mandolin
    He sang the old talk, the old ways, the dealins' 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
    Ah, but those were golden things he said to his mandolin
    We had to stand, we had 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 roads came in
    And the night before he swung he sung to his mandolin
    Well, we carried him out in the morning light
    A man who'd done no good
    And we lowered him down in the cold, 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 on down to
    Mexico, along with his mandolin