last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
my mind been bent on
rambling to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision
and I followed with the wind
til first I came to anchor
at the cross at Spancil hill
it been on the 23rd of June
the day before the fair
when Ireland's sons and daughters
and friends assembled there
the young the old the brave and the bold came their duty to forfil
at the parish Church near
Cloony a mile from Spancil hill
I went to see my neighbours
to see what they might say
the old ones were all dead and
gone the young ones turning grey
I met the tailor Quigley
he's as bold as ever still
he used to mend my britches
when I lived in Spancil hill
I took a flying visit to my
one and only love
she's as white as lily
as gentle as a dove
she threw her arms around me
saying Johnny I love you still
she is Nell the farmers daughter
the pride of Spancil hill
I dreamt I held and kissed her
as in the days of old
saying Johnny your only joking
as manys a times before
but the cock he crew in the morning he crew both loud and shrill
I awoke in California many miles from Spancil hill

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