Spanish Johnny

Those other years the 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 sing to his mandolin.

The old talk, the old ways

And the dealing of our game

Spanish Johnny never spoke

But sang 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 morning sun

A man that done no good

And we lowered him down in the cold clay

Stuck in a cross of wood.

And the letter we wrote to his kinfolk

To tell them where he'd been

And we shipped it out to Mexico

Along with his mandolin...