Sheet Music (and more information about this song)
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 my will
Til next I came to anchor at the cross in Spancil Hill
Delighted by the novelty, enchanted by the scene.
Where in me early boyhood so often I had been.
I thought I heard a murmur, and I think I hear it still.
It's the little stream of water that flows down Spancil Hill.
It being the twenty-third of June the day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters in crowds assembled there
The young and the old, the brave and the bold their duty to fulfil
At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil 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 with tailor Quigley, he's 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 as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying "Johnny I love you still!"
Oh she's Ned the farmer's daughter and the flower of Spancil Hill
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.
Comp: Michael Considine (~1850-1873)