Misc Traditional – Spancil Hill (Guitar)

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Last night as I lay dreaming, of pleasant days gone by,

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Me mind being bent on rambling, to Ireland I did fly,

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I stepped aboard a vision, and followed with a will,

      Am              G                               Am
And I shortly came to anchor, at the cross on Spancil Hill.

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It being the 23rd of June, the day before the fair,

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When Irelands' sons and daughters, in crowds assembled there,

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The young and the old, the brave and the bold,

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Came their joy to fulfill, there were jovial conversations at the fair at Spancil Hill.

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

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

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

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Sure he used to make me britches when I lived in Spancil Hill.

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

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She s as white as any lily and as gentle as a dove,

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She threw her arms around me, saying Johnny I love you still,

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Oh, she's Nell the farmers daughter and the flower of Spancil Hill.

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I dream t I held and kissed her, as in the days of yore,

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She said Johnny you're only joking like many's the times before,

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The cock he crew the morning, he crew both loud and shrill,

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And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.