Last night as I lay dreamin'
Of pleasant days gone by
My mind bein' bent on raveling
To Ireland I did fly
I crept aboard a vision
and I followed with the wind
When next I came to anchor
At the cross at Spancil Hill
 
Be now the 23rd of June the day before the fair.
When Ireland's sons and daughters and friends assembled there.
The young, the old, the brave and the bold with a duty to fulfil.
at the parish church near Cluny a mile from Spancil Hill
 
I went to see my neighbours to see what they might say.
The old ones were all dead and gone and the young were turning grey.
I met with the tailor Quigley, he's a bold as ever still,
sure he used to mend my breeches when I lived on Spancil Hill.
 
I paid a flying visit to my one and only true love.
She's as gentle as a lily and as snow white as a dove.
She threw her arms around me saying ""Johnny I love you still"".
As she's Nell the farmers daughter she's the pride 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 a 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.