Those other years, the dusty years   We drove the big hers through   I tried to forget the miles we rode   And Spanish Johnny too   He'd sit beside a water ditch when all this herd was in   And he'd never harm a child but sing to his mandolin      The old talk, the old ways, and the drealin' of our game   But Spanish Johnny never spoke, but sing a song of Spain   And his talk with men was vicious tallk   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 mornin' sun   A man that done no good   And we lowered him down in the 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 out to Mexico, along with his mandolin