Spancil Hill

Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by

Me mind being bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly

I stepped on board a vision and I followed with a will

Till next I came to anchor at the cross at Spancil Hill

It being on the twenty third 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 there, duty to fulfill

At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill

I went to see me neighbors, to see what they might say

The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning gray

But I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still

Ah, he used to mend me britches when I lived in 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"

As she's Nell the farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill

I dreamt, I held and kissed her as in the days of yore

I've Johnny, you're only jokin', 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