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 followed with the wind And I shortly came to anchor at the cross of Spancil Hill
It being the 23rd June the day before the fair When lreland's sons and daughters in crowds assembled there The young and the old, the brave and the bold their journey to fulfill There were jovial conversations at the fair of Spancil Hill
I went to see my neighbors to hear what they might say The old ones were all dead and gone and the young one's turning grey I met with the tailor Quigley, he's a bould 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 white as any lily and as 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 flower of Spancil HiII
I dreamt I held and kissed her as in the days of yore She said, "Johnny you're only joking like many's the time before" The cock he crew in the morning he crew both loud and shrill And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.