Album: Folk-Lore (2002)



[Arrangement: KF Words: Tradional]





Last night as I lay dreaming

of pleasant days gone by,

Me mind been bent on rambling,

to Ireland I did fly,

I stepped on board a vision

and followed with a will

Till next I came to anchor

at the cross near Spancill Hill.



Delighted by the novelty,

enchanted with the scene,

Where in me early boyhood - 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 Spancill Hill.



To amuse a passing fancy

I lay down on the ground,

And all my school companions

they shortly gathered round

When we were home returning

we danced with bright goodwill,

To Martin Moynahan's music

at the cross at Spancill Hill.



It was on the 24th of June,

the day before the fair

When Ireland's sons and daughters

and all assembled there,

The young, the old, the brave, the bold

came their duty to fulfil,

At the little church in Clooney,

a mile from Spancill Hill.



I went to see me neighbours

to see what they might say,

The old ones they were dead and gone,

the young ones turning grey,

I met the tailor Quigley, he was bold as ever still,

sure he used to make my britches

when I lived at Spancill Hill.



I paid a flying visit to me first and only love,

She's as fair as any lilly and gentle as a dove,

She threw her arms around me

crying "Johnny I love you still",

She was a farmer's daughter,

the pride of Spancill Hill.



Well I dreamt I hugged and kissed her

as in the days of yore

She said "Johnny you're only joking"

as many the times before,

The cock crew in the morning,

he crew both loud and shrill

And I awoke in California,

many miles from Spancill Hill.