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 boarded with a will
At last I came to anchor at the cross at Spancil Hill.
Chorus: Yippee-yi-yayyyy,
Yippee-yi-yohhhh,
A ghost rider in the sky.
It being on the twenty-third of June the day before the fair
All Ireland's sons and daughters in crowds a**embled there
The young the old the brave the bold, their duties to fulfill
There were pleasant conversations at the foot of Spancil Hill.
I went to see my neighbors to see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone the young ones turning grey
I met old Tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still
He used to mend my britches when I lived at Spancil Hill
I paid a flying visit to me first and only love
She's as young as any lily and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying 'Johnny I love you still'
She's Ned the farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill
I asked her would she marry me as in the days of yore
She said 'Johnny, you're only joking, as many's the time before'
The co*k crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.