Lastnight as I lay dreaming, of pleasant days goneby,
Me mind being bent on rambling, to Ireland I did fly,
I stepped on board a vision, and followed with a will,
Till the first I came to anchor at the cross at Spancil Hill,
T'was on the twenty third of June,the day before the fair,
When Ireland's sons and daughters,and friends a**embled there,
The young the old the brave the bold,thier duty to full fill,
At the parish Church near Clooney,a mile from Spancil Hill.
I went to see me neighbours to see what they might say,
The old one's were all dead and gone,the young one's turning grey,
I met with tailor Quigley,he's as bold as ever still,
Sure he used to make me britches when I lived in Spancil Hill.
I paid a flying visit to my first and only love,
She's as fair as any lilly as gently as a dove,
She threw her arms around me saying Johnny I love ye still,
She was Meg the farmer's daughter,the pride of Spaincil Hill.
Me mind being bent on rambling, to Ireland I did fly,
I stepped on board a vision, and followed with a will,
Till the first I came to anchor at the cross at Spancil Hill,
T'was on the twenty third of June,the day before the fair,
When Ireland's sons and daughters,and friends a**embled there,
The young the old the brave the bold,thier duty to full fill,
At the parish Church near Clooney,a mile from Spancil Hill.
I went to see me neighbours to see what they might say,
The old one's were all dead and gone,the young one's turning grey,
I met with tailor Quigley,he's as bold as ever still,
Sure he used to make me britches when I lived in Spancil Hill.
I paid a flying visit to my first and only love,
She's as fair as any lilly as gently as a dove,
She threw her arms around me saying Johnny I love ye still,
She was Meg the farmer's daughter,the pride of Spaincil Hill.