Spancil Hills

Last night when I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind
Till first I came to anchor at the cross of Spancil Hill
It was on 23rd of June the day before the fair
When lreland’s sons and daughters and friends assembled there
The young and the old,
the brave and the bold their duty to fulfill
At the parish church in Clooney
A mile from Spancil Hill
I went to see my neighbors to hear what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone
the young one’s turning grey
I met with the talior Quigley, he’s a brave as ever still
Sure he used to make me britches when I lived in Spancil Hill
I paid a flying visit to my first and own true love
She’s as white as any lily and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying «Johnny I love you still
«Oh she’s Ned the farmers daughter and the pride of Spancil HiII
I dreamt I held and kissed her as in the days of yore
She said, «Johnny you’re only joking as in the times before»
The cock he crew in the morning he crew both loud and shrill
And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill