Spancil Hill

Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on traveling 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 the 23rd of June the day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters in crowds assembled there
The young and the old the brave and the bold their duty to fulfill
At the parish church in Clooney, not a mile from Spancil Hill

I went to see my neighbours and hear what they might say
The old ones are all dead and gone the young ones turning grey
I met with the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still
He used to make me britches when I lived in Spancil Hill

I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
She's as fair as any lily and gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying, "Johnny, I love you still"
She's Ned the farmer's daughter, the pride of Spancil Hill

Well, I dreamt I hugged and kissed her as in the days of yore
She said, "Johnny, you're only joking, as many the time before"
The cock he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill