1. 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 a will,
'Til next I came to anchor at
The cross at Spancil Hill.

5. I went to see the neighbors,
And to hear what they might say.
The old ones were all dead and gone,
The young ones gone away.

I met the tailor, Quigley,
He's as bold as ever still.
Sure, he used to mend me britches,
When I lived at Spancil Hill.

2. Delighted by the novelty,
Enchanted by the scene,
Where in my early boyhood,
Where I had often been,

I thought I heard a murmer,
And I think I hear it still.
It's the little stream of water
That flows down by Spancil Hill.

6. I took a flying trip,
To see my first and only love.
She's as fair as any lily,
And as gentle as a dove.

She threw her arms around me,
Saying, "Johnny, I love you, still!"
For she was a farmer's daughter,
And the pride of Spancil Hill.

3. To amuse a passing fancy,
I lay down upon the ground.
And all my school companions
Were shortly gathered 'round.

When we were home returning,
We would dance with bright good will
To Martin Moynihan's music,
At the cross at Spancil Hill.

7. I dreamt I hugged and kissed her,
Just as in days of yore.
She said, "Johnny, your only jokin',
As many's the time before."

The cock then crowed in the mornin',
He crew both loud and shrill,
And I woke in California,
Many miles from Spancil Hill.
4. 'Twas on the twenty-third of June,
The day before the Fair,
And Ireland's sons and daughters,
And friends assembled there.

The young, the old, the brave, the bold,
Their duty to fulfil,
At the parish church in Clooney,
Just a mile from Spancil Hill.

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