Intro:          (x2) Last night as I lay  dreamingof pleasant days gone by   My mind being bent on ramblingto  Ireland I did  fly   I stepped on board a vision and followed with a wind   Till the next I came to anchor at the cross near Spancil  Hill         (x2) T’was on the twenty third of Junethe day before the fair   When Ireland’s sons and daughtersand friends assembled there   The young the old the brave the bo came their duty to fill   At the parish Church at Clooneya mile from Spancil Hill.           (x2) I went to see me neighbours to hear what they might say   The old one’s were all dead and gonethe young one’s turning grey   I met the tailor Quigleyhe’s as bold as ever still   Sure he used to mend my britches when I lived in Spancil Hill.         (x2) I paid a flying visit to my first and only love   She’s fair as any lilly as gentle as a dove   She threw her arms around me saying "Johnny I love you still"   She was Meg the farmer’s daughterthe pride of Spancil Hill.   She was Meg the farmer’s daughterthe pride of Spancil Hill.