Lyrics and Chords

Spancil Hill – a nostalgic dream of Ireland

The lyrics to Spancil Hill tell the story of an Irish immigrant in America who dreams of returning home to his lover and his family.

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They were written by Michael Considine when he was just 23 years old and very ill. He knew that he didn’t have long to live so he wrote the song so his loved ones back home in Spancil Hill in County Clare would know how he felt about them and how much he missed them.

The lyrics are unashamedly sentimental and have been hugely popular since they were written, probably around 1870. Find out more about Spancil Hill.

Spancil Hill original lyrics and chords

Am 

Last night as I lay  

G 

dreaming,

 

Of the pleasant days  

Am 

gone 

 

by,

My mind being bent on rambling

 

And to  

C 

Erin’s Isle I did  

G 

fly.

 

I  

Am 

stepped on board a vision

 

And  

C 

sailed out with a  

G 

will,

 

‘Till  

Am 

I gladly came to  

G 

anchor

 

At the Cross of  

Am 

Spancil 

 

Hill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Am 

Enchanted by the no

G 

velty,

 

Delighted with  

Am 

the 

 

scenes,

Where in my early childhood,

 

I of

C 

ten times have  

G 

been.

 

I  

Am 

thought I heard a murmur,

 

I  

C 

think I hear it  

G 

still,

 

‘Tis  

Am 

that little stream of  

G 

water

 

At the Cross of  

Am 

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 vallies sounded,

In notes that seemed to tell,

That Father Dan was coming,

His duty to fulfill,

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 Moilens 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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I went into my old home,

As every stone can tell,

The old boreen was just the same,

And the apple tree over the well,

I miss my sister Ellen,

My brothers Pat and Bill,

Sure I only met my strange faces

At my home in Spancil Hill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I called to see my neighbours,

To hear what they might say,

The old were getting feeble,

And the young ones turning grey.

I met with tailor Quigley,

He’s as brave as ever still,

Sure he always made my breeches

When I lived in Spancil Hill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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,

She is Mack the Rangers daughter,

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 you often were before,

The cock crew on the roost again,

He crew both loud and shrill,

And I awoke in California,

Far far 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.

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