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 a will Till next I came to anchor at the cross of Spancil Hill It being on the 23rd of June, the day before the fair When lreland's 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 I went to see my neighbors, to hear what they might say The old ones were all dead and gone, the young one's Turning grey I met the tailor Quigley, he's as bould as ever still Ah, he used to make my breeches when I lived in 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 And she threw her arms around me, saying: Johnny, I Love you still She's Nell the farmers daughter, and the pride of Spancil Hill She's Nell the farmers daughter, and the pride of Spancil Hill