Spancil Hill


Last night as I lay dreaming
Of pleasent days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling
To Ireland I did fly
I stepped aboard a vision
And I followed with the wind
Oh the next I came to anchor
At the cross in Spancil Hill

Being on the twenty-third of June
The day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters
In crowds assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold
Came their duties to fulfil
At the parish church near Clooney
A mile from Spancil Hill

I went to see my neighbours
To see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone
The young ones turning grey
I met with the tailor Quigley
He's as bold as ever still
Oh he used to make me britches
When I lived in Spancil Hill

I payed a flying visit
To my first and only love
She's as white as any lily
As gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me
Saying "Johnny, I love you still"
Oh she's yet the farmer's daughter
And the pride of Spancil Hill

I dreamt I knelt and kissed her
As in the days of yore
Oh Johnny, you're only joking
As many's the time before
When the cock he crew in the morning
Though he crew both loud and shrill
It's when I woke in California
Many miles from Spancil Hill

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