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 a**embled 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 c*** he crew in the morning he crew both loud and shrill. And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.