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I wrote this with my son in mind. It was one of two songs (Red John being the other) that I came up with upon my recovering from depression and picking up the guitar again (after an interregnum of five years) in 1986. The song is a juxtaposition of the pleasure to be gained from a young family and the poignancy with respect to the loss of one’s own youthful bravado and potency.
That these two songs should open the CD is purely incidental, but their position there is perhaps apt.
The Spaniard
Olé, Olé
That’s what the Spaniard say
When he’s out to catch the bull by the horns
When he has no fear for the fray
Little boy, little boy
There’s a carpet of snow on the ground
It’s clear and white and virgin white
Let’s go outside and mess around
I’m not ever coming back
To this hard place
Won’t you leave, won’t you leave
With me?
Now it’s a dream that we all have
To be the hero on the hill
To be a god for some poor sod
And have him pick up the bill
Time is a faithless friend
You know it used to be on my side
Now for every day that slips away
A bell tolls deep inside
Little boy, little boy
The sky is filled with light
The hills are high and the sea is cold
And it’ll be all right
© 2006 Dave Keir
