{t:Spancil Hill}
{artist:Michael Considine}

Last [Am]night as I lay [G]dreaming of pleasant days gone [Am]by
Me [Am]mind being bent on rambling, to [C]Ireland I did [G]fly
I [Am]stepped on board a vision, and I [C]followed with a [G]will
[Am]'Til next I came to [G]anchor at the cross at [Em]Spancil [Am]Hill

It [Am]being on the 2[G]3rd of June, the day before the [Am]fair
When [Am]Ireland's sons and daughters and [C]friends assembled [G]there
The [Am]young, the old, the brave, the bold, they [C]came their joy to [G]fill
At the [Am]parish church in [G]Clooney, a mile from Spancil [Am]Hill

I [Am]went to see me [G]neighbors, to see what they might [Am]say
The [Am]old ones were all dead and gone, the [C]young ones turning [G]gray
I [Am]met the tailor Quigley, he's as [C]bold as ever [G]still
Sure he [Am]used to mend me [G]britches when I lived in Spancil [Am]Hill

I [Am]paid a flying [G]visit to my first and only [Am]love
She's as [Am]white as any lily, [C]gentle as a [G]dove
And she [Am]threw her arms around me saying, "[C]Johnny, I love you [G]still"
She's [Am]Nell the farmer's [G]daughter, the pride of Spancil [Am]Hill

I [Am]dreamed I held and [G]kissed her as in the days of [Am]yore
Ah [Am]Johnny, you're only jokin', as [C]many's the time bef[G]ore
Then the [Am]cock, he crew the morning, he [C]crew both loud and [G]shrill
And I [Am]woke in Calif[G]ornia, many miles from Spancil [Am]Hill