65th Regiment Song Book
Last night as I lay dreaming,
Of pleasant days gone by,
My mind being spent on rambling,
To Ireland I did fly.
I stepped on board a vision,
And I followed it with a will,
Till next I came to anchor at,
The cross near Spancil Hill.
It being on the twenty first of
The day before the fair,
When Ireland's sons and daughters,
And friends assemble there,
The young and the old,
The brave and the bold,
Their duty to fulfil,
At the parish church of Cooley,
Not far from Spancil Hill.
I went to see my neighbours,
To hear what they might say.
The old ones were all dead and gone,
The young ones was turning grey.
I met old tailor Quigley.
He's as bold as ever still.
Sure he used to mend me britches,
When I lived on Spancil Hill.
I paid a flying visit to
My first and own true love.
She's as pure as any lily,
As gentle as a dove.
She threw her arms around me,
Saying "Johnny I love you still".
She was Meg the farmer's daughter,
She's the pride of Spancil Hill.
I dreamt I lay and turned to her,
As in the days of yore,
She says "Johnny, you're only jokin'
like many's a time before".
The cock he crows in the morning.
He crows both loud and shrill.
And I awoke in the British Army, boys,
Many miles from Spancil Hill.