[I have boldfaced the words that are different from the version above.]
SPANISH JOHNNY (Willa Sibert Cather)
The old West, the old time, The old wind singing through The red, red grass a thousand miles, And, Spanish Johnny, you! He'd sit beside the water ditch When all his herd was in, And never mind a child, but sing To his mandolin.
The big stars, the blue night, The moon-enchanted plain; The olive man who never spoke, But sang the songs of Spain. His speech with men was wicked talk— To hear it was a sin; But those were golden things he said To his mandolin.
The gold songs, the gold stars, The world so golden then; And the hand so tender to a child Had killed so many men. He died a hard death long ago Before the Road came in; The night before he swung, he sang To his mandolin.