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