Am G Am
Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
Am C G
My mind being bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
Am C G
I stepped on board a vision and followed with a will
Am G Em Am
Til next I came to anchor at the cross in Spancil Hill
Am G Em Am
It being on the twenty-third of June the day before the fair
Am C G
When Irelands sons and daughters and friends assembled there
Am C G
The young, the old, the brave and the bold came their duty
to fulfill
Am G Em Am
At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill
Am G Em Am
Delighted by the novelty, enchanted by the scene.
Am C G
Where in me early boyhood where often I had been.
Am C G
I thought I heard a murmur and I think I hear it still.
A G Em Am
It’s the little stream of water that flows down Spancil Hill.
Am G Am
I went to see me neighbours to see what they might say
Am C G
The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning grey
Am C G
I met with the tailor Quigley, he’s as bold as ever still
A G Em Am
Sure, he used to make me britches when I lived at Spancil Hill
Am G Am
I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
Am C G
She’s as white as any lily, and as gentle as a dove
Am C G
She threw her arms around me, saying Johnny I love you still
A G Em Am
She’s Ned, the farmer’s daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill
Am G Em Am
I dreamt I knelt and kissed her as in the days of yore
Am C G
She said Johnny you’re only joking as many the time before
Am C G
The cock he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
A G Em Am
When I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill
