| One night as he lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
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| His mind being bent on rambling to lreland he did fly
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| He stepped on a vision and he followed with the wind
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| When at last he came to anchor at the cross of Spancill Hill
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| Then on the 23rd of June the day before the fair
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| When Ireland’s sons and daughters and
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| Friends assembled there
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| The young and the old, the brave and
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| The bold cametheir dutie to fulfill
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| At the Parish Church in Clooney a mile from Spancill Hill
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| He went to see his neighbours to see how they did fare
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| The old ones were all dead and gone
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| The young ones turning grey
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| He met with tailor Quigley he’s as funny as ever still
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| Johnny used to patch his britches
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| When he lived in Spancill Hill
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| He paid a flying visit to his one and only love
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| She’s as gentle as a puppy and as pretty as a doll
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| She threw her arms around me saying
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| Johnny I love you still
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| Sure she’s Ned the farmer’s daughter and the pride of Spancill Hill
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| He dreamt he held, he kissed her as many a time before
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| Oh Johnny you’re only joking as many a time before
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| The cock he crowed in the morning he crowed
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| Both clear and shrill
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| He awoke in California many miles from Spancill Hill |