(Paul Siebel)
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Those other years, the dusty years
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We drove the big hers through
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I tried to forget the miles we rode
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And Spanish Johnny too
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He'd sit beside a water ditch when all this herd was in
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And he'd never harm a child but sing to his mandolin
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The old talk, the old ways, and the dealin' of our game
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But Spanish Johnny never spoke, but sing a song of Spain
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And his talk with men was vicious talk
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When he was drunk on gin
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Ah, but those were golden things he said to his mandolin
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We had to stand, we tried to judge, we had to stop him then
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For the hand so gentle to a child had killed so many men
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He died a hard death long ago before the road come in
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And the night before he swung he sung to his mandolin
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Well, we carried him out in the mornin' sun
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A man that done no good
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And we lowered him down in the cold clay
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Stuck in a cross of wood
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And a letter we wrote to his kinfolk
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To tell them where he'd been
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And we shipped it out to Mexico, along with his mandolin
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Spanish Johnny
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Emmylou Harris |