One night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind was bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on a vision and I followed with the wind,
When at last I came to anchor at the cross of Spancill Hill.

Then on the 23rd of June the day before the fair,
When Ireland'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 Spancill Hill.

I went to see my neighbours, to hear what they might say,
The old ones were all dead and gone, and the young ones turning grey
I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still,
Sure he used to make my 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"
Ah she's Ned, the farmer's daughter, the pride of Spancil Hill

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

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