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letra de spancil hill - noel mcloughlin

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last night as i lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by,
me mind bein´ bent on rambling to ireland i did fly,
i stepped on board a vision and followed with the will,
when next i came to anchor at the cross near spancil hill.

delighted by the novelty, enchanted by the scene
where in my early boyhood so often i had been
i thought i heard a murmur and i think i hear it still,
it’s that little stream of water that flows down spancil hill.

being on the twenty-third of june, the day before the fair,
when ireland’s sons and daughters in crowds -ssembled there
the young, the old, the brave and the bold, their duty to fulfill,
at the parish church of clooney, a mile from spancil hill.

i went to see my neighbours, to hear what they might say,
the old ones were all dead and gone, and the young ones turning grey
i met the tailor quigley, he’s as bold as ever still,
sure he used to make my britches when i lived in spancil hill.

i paid a flying visit to my first and only love,
she’s as fair as any lily and gentle as a dove
she threw her arms around me, saying “johnny, i love you still”
ah she’s nell, the farmer’s daughter, the pride of spancil hill

i dreamt i held and kissed her as in the days of yore
she said “johnny you’re only joking, as many’s the time before”
the c-ck he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill,
i awoke in california, many miles from spancil hill.

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