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
'Till last I came to anchor at
The cross near Spancill Hill

'Twas 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 duties to fulfill
At the little church in Clooney
A mile from Spancill Hill

I went to see my neighbors
To see what they might say
The old one where all dead and gone
The young ones turning grey
I met with taylor Quigley
He's as bald as ever still
He used to make me britches
When I lived on Spancill Hill

I payed a flying visit
To my first and only love
She's as fair as any lily
And as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me
Crying "Johny I love you still"
She was Meg, the farmers daughter and
The pride of Spancill Hill

I dreamt I knelt and kissed her
As in the days of yarn
She said "Johny you're only joking, as many's a times before"
The rooster crew in the morning
Sure he crew both loud and shrill
I awoke in California
Many miles from Spancill Hill

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