Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling to Ireland's Isle did fly
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with a will
And I came to anchor surely at the cross of Spancil Hill
It being the 23rd June the day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters in crowds a**embled there
The young and the old, the brave and the bold their duty to fulfill
At the little Church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill
I went to see my neighbors to see what they would say
The old ones they were dead and gone and the young ones torn and grey
I met with the tailor Quigley, he's a 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 flower and 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 Hill
I dreamt I held and kissed her as in the days of yore
She said, "Johnny you're only joking as many the time before"
The co*k crewed in the morning he sounded loud and shrill
And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill