Bein' on the twenty-third of June
The day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters
And friends assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold
Came their duty to fulfill
At the parish church in Clooney
A mile from Spancil Hill
I went to see my neighbors
To see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone
The young ones turning gray
I met the tailor Quigley
He's as bald as ever still
He used to make my breeches when
I lived in Spancil Hill
I paid a flying visit to
My first and only love
She's as white as any lily
As gentle as the dove
She threw her arms around me
Saying, "Johnny, I love you still"
Ah, she's yet the farmer's daughter and
The pride of Spancil Hill
I dreamt I knelt and kissed her
As in the days of yore
"Ah, Johnny, you're only joking,
As many's the time before"
Then the cock he crew in the morning
Ah, he crew both loud and shrill
And I woke in Californ-eye-ay
Many miles from Spancil Hill