Spanish Johnny

(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