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