Spancil Hill by Micheal Considine Lyrics
Last night as I lay dreaming, of the pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling and to Erin's Isle I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and sailed out with a will
'Till I gladly came to anchor at the Cross of Spancilhill
Enchanted by the novelty, delighted with the scenes
Where in my early childhood, I often times have been
I thought I heard a murmur, I think I hear it still
'Tis that little stream of water at the Cross of Spancilhill
And to amuse my fancy, I lay upon the ground
Where all my school companions, in crowds assembled 'round
Some have grown to manhood, while more their graves did fill
Oh I thought we were all young again, at the Cross of Spancilhill
It being on a Sabbath morning, I thought I heard a bell
O'er hills and vallies sounded, in notes that seemed to tell
That Father Dan was coming, his duty to fulfill
At the parish church of Clooney, just one mile from Spancilhill
And when our duty did commence, we all knelt down in prayer
In hopes for to be ready, to climb the Golden Stair
And when back home returning, we danced with right good will
To Martin Moylan's music, at the Cross of Spancilhill
It being on the twenty third of June, the day before the fair
Sure Erin's sons and daughters, they all assembled there
The young, the old, the stout and the bold, they came to sport and kill
What a curious combination, at the Fair of Spancilhill
I went into my old home, as every stone can tell
The old boreen was just the same, and the apple tree over the well
I miss my sister Ellen, my brothers Pat and Bill
Sure I only met my strange faces at my home in Spancilhill
I called to see my neighbors, to hear what they might say
The old were getting feeble, and the young ones turning grey
I met with tailor Quigley, he's as brave as ever still
Sure he always made my breeches when I lived in Spancilhill
I paid a flying visit, to my first and only love
She's as pure as any lilly, and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me, saying Mike I love you still
She is Mack the Rangers daughter, the Pride of Spancilhill
I thought I stooped to kiss her, as I did in days of yore
Says she Mike you're only joking, as you often were before
The cock crew on the roost again, he crew both loud and shrill
And I awoke in California, far far from Spancilhill
But when my vision faded, the tears came in my eyes
In hope to see that dear old spot, some day before I die
May the Joyous King of Angels, His Choicest Blessings spill
On that Glorious spot of Nature, the Cross of Spancilhill
My mind being bent on rambling and to Erin's Isle I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and sailed out with a will
'Till I gladly came to anchor at the Cross of Spancilhill
Enchanted by the novelty, delighted with the scenes
Where in my early childhood, I often times have been
I thought I heard a murmur, I think I hear it still
'Tis that little stream of water at the Cross of Spancilhill
And to amuse my fancy, I lay upon the ground
Where all my school companions, in crowds assembled 'round
Some have grown to manhood, while more their graves did fill
Oh I thought we were all young again, at the Cross of Spancilhill
It being on a Sabbath morning, I thought I heard a bell
O'er hills and vallies sounded, in notes that seemed to tell
That Father Dan was coming, his duty to fulfill
At the parish church of Clooney, just one mile from Spancilhill
And when our duty did commence, we all knelt down in prayer
In hopes for to be ready, to climb the Golden Stair
And when back home returning, we danced with right good will
To Martin Moylan's music, at the Cross of Spancilhill
It being on the twenty third of June, the day before the fair
Sure Erin's sons and daughters, they all assembled there
The young, the old, the stout and the bold, they came to sport and kill
What a curious combination, at the Fair of Spancilhill
I went into my old home, as every stone can tell
The old boreen was just the same, and the apple tree over the well
I miss my sister Ellen, my brothers Pat and Bill
Sure I only met my strange faces at my home in Spancilhill
I called to see my neighbors, to hear what they might say
The old were getting feeble, and the young ones turning grey
I met with tailor Quigley, he's as brave as ever still
Sure he always made my breeches when I lived in Spancilhill
I paid a flying visit, to my first and only love
She's as pure as any lilly, and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me, saying Mike I love you still
She is Mack the Rangers daughter, the Pride of Spancilhill
I thought I stooped to kiss her, as I did in days of yore
Says she Mike you're only joking, as you often were before
The cock crew on the roost again, he crew both loud and shrill
And I awoke in California, far far from Spancilhill
But when my vision faded, the tears came in my eyes
In hope to see that dear old spot, some day before I die
May the Joyous King of Angels, His Choicest Blessings spill
On that Glorious spot of Nature, the Cross of Spancilhill