Last night as I lay dreaming of the pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and followed it with a will
'Til I gladly came to anchor at the Cross of 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 Moilen's music at the Cross of Spancil Hill
♪
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 Spancil Hill
So I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
She's as pure as any lily, and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying Mike, "I love you still"
And she's Mack the Ranger's daughter, and the Pride of Spancil Hill
♪
It being a Sabbath morning, I thought I heard a bell
O'er hills and vallies sounded, in notes that seemed to tell
Of the Joyous King of Angels, his Choicest Blessings spill
On that Glorious spot of Nature, the Cross of Spancil Hill