Spancil Hill


Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling, to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with a will
Till next I came to anchor at the cross near Spancil Hill

Enchanted by the novelty, delighted with the scene
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 Spancil Hill

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 Spancil Hill

It being on a Sabbath morning, I thought I heard a bell
O’er hills and valleys sounded, in notes that seemed to tell
That Father Dan was coming, his duty to fulfil
At the parish church of Clooney, just one mile from Spancil Hill

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 Moylin’s music at the Cross of Spancil Hill

It being the twenty-third of June, the day before the fair
When lreland’s sons and daughters, and friends assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold, came their duty to fulfil
At the parish church at Clooney, just a mile from Spancil Hill

I went into my old home, as every stone can tell
The old boreen was just the same, the apple tree over the well
I miss my sister Ellen, my brothers Pat and Bill
Sure I only met strange faces at my home in Spancil Hill

I went to see my neighbours to hear what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning grey
I met the tailor Quigley, he’s as bold as ever still
Sure, he used to mend my britches when I lived at Spancil Hill

I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
She’s as fair as any lily and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying “Oh Johnny I love you still”
She was Meg the farmer’s daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill

I thought I stooped to kiss her as I did in days of yore
Says she “Mike, you’re only joking, as oft in times before”
The cock crew out in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill

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 Spancil Hill

Clare 1

Songs of Clare






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