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 the wind,
Till next I came to anchor at the cross near Spancill Hill.
IT'was on the 23rd June the day before the fair,
When lreland's sons and daughters and friends assembled there,
The young ,the old, the brave, the bold came their duty to fill,
At the parish church at Cluney just a mile from Spancill 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 bold as ever still,
Sure he used to mend my britches when I lived at Spancill Hill.
I paid a flying visit to my first and only love,
She's fair as any lily and gentle as a dove,
She threw her arms around me saying "Johnny I love you still",
She was Meg the farmers daughter and the pride of Spancill Hill.
She was Meg the farmers daughter and the pride of Spancill Hill.
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