(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
