One night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by My mind was bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly I stepped on a vision and I followed with the wind When at last I came to anchor at the cross of Spancill Hill Then on the 23rd of June the day before the fair When Ireland's sons and daughters and friends a**embled there The young, the old, the brave and the bold came their duty to fulfill At the Parish Church in Clooney a mile from Spancill Hill I went to see my neighbours, to hear what they might say The old ones were all dead and gone, and the young ones turning grey I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bold 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 fair as any lily and gentle as a dove She threw her arms around me, saying "Johnny, I love you still" Ah she's Ned, the farmer's daughter, 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" The c*** he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill When I woke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill