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 boarded with a will
At last I came to anchor at the cross at Spancil Hill.
Chorus: Yippee-yi-yayyyy,
Yippee-yi-yohhhh,
A ghost rider in the sky.
It being on the twenty-third of June the day before the fair
All Ireland's sons and daughters in crowds assembled there
The young the old the brave the bold, their duties to fulfill
There were pleasant conversations at the foot of 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 grey
I met old Tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever still
He used to mend my britches when I lived at Spancil Hill
I paid a flying visit to me first and only love
She's as young as any lily and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying 'Johnny I love you still'
She's Ned the farmer's daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill
I asked her would she marry me as in the days of yore
She said 'Johnny, you're only joking, as many's the time before'
The cock crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.
