Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by,
Me mind bein'bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly,
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the will,
Till next I came to anchor at the cross Spancil Hill
It being on the twenty-third of June, the day before the fair,
When Ireland's sons and daughters and friends assembled.
The young, the old, the brave and the bold cametheir duty to fulfill,
At the parish church of 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,
But I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still
«Are you 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,
And she threw her arms around me, saying «Johnny, I love you still!»
Ah she's Nell, the farmer's daughter and 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!»
Than the cock he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill,
I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill…