Spancil Hill

Last night as I lay dreaming
Of pleasant days gone by
Me mind been bent on rambling
To Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision
And I followed with a will
Til next I came to anchor at
The cross in Spancil Hill

It been on the twenty-third of June
The day before the fair
When Irelands sons and daughters
And friends assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold
Came their duty to fulfill
At the parish church in Clooney
A mile from Spancil Hill

I went to see me neighbours
To see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone
The young ones turning grey
But I met the tailor Quigley
He’s as bold as ever still
Ah, he used to make me britches
When I lived at Spancil Hill

I paid a flying visit
To my first and only love
She’s as white as any lily
Gentle as a dove
And she threw her arms around me
Saying: “Johnny I love you still”
Ah, she’s now a farmer’s daughter
And the pride of Spancil Hill

I dreamt I held and kissed her
As in the days of yore
Ah, Johnny you’re only joking
As many’s the time before
Then the cock he crew in the morning
He crew both loud and shrill
I awoke in California
Many miles from Spancil Hill