Last night as I lay dreaming
Of pleasant days gone by
Me mind been bent on rambling
To Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision,
followed softly with the wind
When first I came to Ankara,
many miles from Spansol Hill
It'd been on the 23rd of June,
the day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters
and friends assembled there
The young and the old,
the brave and the bold,
their duties to fulfill
At the parish church in Clulee,
a mile from Swansoil Hill
I went to see me neighbours,
to see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone,
the young ones turning grey
I met the tailor quickly,
he's as bold as ever still
Sure he used to mend me bridges
when I lived in Swansfield
I paid a flying visit
to my first and only love
She's as white as any lily,
as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me,
saying, Johnny, I love you still
She's Ned, the farmer's daughter,
the pride of Spansow Hill
I dreamt, I held and kissed her
as in the days of yore
A jolly or lonely joking,
as many as the time before
The cock it grew in the morning,
it grew both loud and shrill
When I walk in California,
many miles from Spanisal Hill.