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Intro

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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 Spancil Hill.

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T'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 Spancil Hill.

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I went to see my neighbors to hear what they might say:

The old ones were all dead and gone; the young ones, turning gray.

I met the tailor Quigley, he's bold as ever still,

Sure he used to mend my britches when I lived at Spancil Hill.

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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 farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill.

She was Meg, the farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill.

ViviEatWorld