Those other years, those dusty years 

When we drove the big hearse through 

I tried to forget the miles we rode 

and Spanish Johnny, you! 

He’d sit beside a water ditch 

When all his herd was in 

He’d never harm a child 

But sing to his mandolin 

He sang the old songs, the old talk 

And the dealin’ of our games 

Spanish Johnny seldom spoke 

But sang 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 sang to his mandolin 

We carried him out in the morning light 

The man who done no good 

Laid him down in a cold, cold clay 

Stuck in a cross of wood 

And a letter we wrote to his kinfolks 

To tell’em where he’d been 

We shipped it on down to Mexico 

Along with the mandolin