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If you enjoy this music consider buying me a one off coffee at: https://ko-fi.com/patrickdexter Or become a patron and have access to all my music to download or listen to any time at: www.patreon.com/patrickdexter Irish folk song 'Spancil Hill'. Music from my cottage on the West coast of Ireland. Spancil Hill is a traditional Irish song written by Michael Considine. It depicts the plight of Irish immigrants who were living in America, many of which moved to California during the Gold Rush, and the longing for their homeland. Michael has a dream one night and dreams of days gone by. He has visions of his childhood and his schoolboy friends, the parish priest, the local fair, his neighbors, the town folk, and the love he left behind... Mary MacNamara was her name. All the places and characters depicted in the song are real. Michael Considine was born in Spancilhill in the middle of the 19th century, around 1850. He emigrated to America at around 1870. Some members of the family emigrated with him and others stayed behind. His intention was to work and earn enough money to bring his sweetheart over to America where they would be married. He worked in Boston for a few years before moving to California. Lyrics "Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by My mind being bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind And I shortly came to anchor at the cross of Spancil Hill It being the 23rd June the day before the fair When lreland’s sons and daughters in crowds assembled there The young and the old, the brave and the bold their journey to fulfill There were jovial conversations at the fair of Spancil Hill I went to see my neighbors to hear what they might say The old ones were all dead and gone and the young one’s turning grey I met with the tailor Quigley, he’s a bould as ever still Sure he used to make my britches when I lived in Spancil Hill I paid a flying visit to my first and only love She’s as white as any lily and as gentle as a dove She threw her arms around me saying “Johnny I love you still” Oh she’s Ned the farmers daughter and the flower of Spancil Hill I dreamt I held and kissed her as in the days of yore She said, “Johnny you’re only joking like many’s the time before” The cock he crew in the morning he crew both loud and shrill And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill. If you like the music please click SUBSCRIBE. Thank you For access to music recordings and more, consider becoming a patron at: www.patreon.com/patrickdexter