Last night as 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 a will
Till next I came to anchor at the cross of Spancil Hill

It being on the 23rd of June, the day before the fair
When lreland's sons and daughters, and friends a__embled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold, came their 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 one's turning grey
But I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bould as ever still
Ah he used to make my breetches when I lived in Spancil Hill

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

I dreamt I held and kissed her, as in the days of yore
Ah, "Johnny you're only joking as many's the time before"
Then the c___ he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.

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