Mariano
By: Robert Earl Keen

Capo 2nd Fret


            
The man outsid

              
e he works for

         
 me, his name 

is Mariano
            
He cuts and tr

              
ims the grass 

             
for me he make

              
s the flowers 


bloom
            
He says that h

              
e comes from a

           
 place not far

 from Guanajua

to
            
Thats two days

              
 on a bus from

             
 here, a lifet

              
ime from this 


room.

            
I fix his meal

              
s and talk to 

       
him in my old 

broken spanish
            
He points at t

              
hings and tell

              
s me names of 

             
things I can't

   
 recall
            
Sometimes I ju

              
st can't but h

        
elp but wonder

 who this man 

is
            
And if when he

              
 is gone will 

             
he remember me

    
 at all

            
I watch him cl

              
ose he works j

         
ust like a pis

ton in an engi

ne
            
He only stops 

              
to take a drin

             
k and smoke a 

    
cigarette
            
When the day i

           
s ended, I loo

k outside my w

indow
            
There on the h

             
orizon, Marian

         
o's silhouette

            
He sits upon a

              
 stone in a so

    
uth-easterly d

irection
            
I know my char

              
ts I know that

             
 he is thinkin

         
g of his home
            
I've never bee

              
n the sort to 

    
say I'm in to 

intuition
            
But I swear I 

              
see the faces 

             
of the ones he

           
 calls his own

            
Their skin is 

              
brown as potte

              
rs clay, their

 
 eyes void of 

expression
            
Their hair is 

              
black as widow

              
's dreams, the

             
ir dreams are 

        
all but gone
            
They're ancien

              
t as a vision 

     
of a sacrifici

al virgin
            
Innocent as cr

             
ying from a ba

         
by being born

            
They hover aro

              
und a dying fl

        
ame and pray f

or his protect

ion
            
Their prayers 

              
are all but an

             
swered by his 

              
letters in the

 
 mail
            
He sends them 

              
colored figure

          
s that he cuts

 from strips o

f paper
            
And all his we

              
ekly wages, sa

             
ving nothing f

      
or himself

            
It's been a wh

              
ile since I ha

        
ve seen the fa

ce of Mariano
            
The border gua

              
rds they came 

             
one day and to

            
ok him far awa

y
            
I hope that he

              
 is safe down 

         
there at home 

in Guanajuato
            
I worry though

              
 I read there'

             
s revolution e

     
very day...