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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 a water ditch When all his herds were in, And never mind a child, but sing To his mandolin.
♦"The words are Willa Gather's* if you print them, of course, you'll have to get her permission The tune is a poor thing, hut mine own. I liked the verse, and this is the way it sang itself to me. A lot of people like it, and I used to like it myselfj but Pve sung it so often now that it doesn't seem to mean much any more."—C. E. Scoggins, Sea Horse Hill. Boulder, Colorado.