CAPO 3
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 followed with a will
Til next I came to anchor at the cross in Spancil Hill
It being on the twenty-third of June the day before the fair
When Irelands sons and daughters and friends assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold came their duty
to fulfill
At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill
Delighted by the novelty, enchanted by the scene.
Where in me early boyhood where 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.
I went to see me neighbours to see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning grey
I met with the tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still
Sure, he used to make me britches when I lived at Spancil Hill
I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
She's as white as any lily, and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me, saying Johnny I love you still
She's Ned, the farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill
I dreamt I knelt and kissed her as in the days of yore
She said Johnny you're only joking as many the time before
The cock he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
When I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill