Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling to Ireland's Isle did fly
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with a will
And I came to anchor surely at the cross of Spancil Hill

It being the 23rd 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 fulfill
At the little Church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill

I went to see my neighbors to see what they would say
The old ones they were dead and gone and the young ones torn and grey
I met with the tailor Quigley, he's a 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 flower and gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying "Johnny, I love you still"
Oh she's Ned the farmers daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill

I dreamt I held and kissed her as in the days of yore
She said, "Johnny you're only joking as many the time before"
The cock crewed in the morning he sounded loud and shrill

And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill