Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by my mind then 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 on Spancil Hill

Bein' on the twenty-third of June the day before the fair when Ireland'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 neighbours to see what they might say the old ones were all dead and gone the young ones turning gray
I met the tailor Quigley he's as bald as ever still 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 as gentle as the dove
She threw her arms around me saying, "Johnny, I love you still" a h, she's yet the farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill

I dreamt I knelt and kissed her as in the days of yore "Ah, Johnny, you're only joking, as many's the time before"
Then the cock he crew in the morning ah, he crew both loud and shrill and I woke in Californ-eye-ay many miles from Spancil Hill