#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------##
Received: from animal-farm.nevada.edu by redrock.nevada.edu (5.65c/M1.4)
	with SMTP id ; Mon, 28 Jun 1993 06:12:57 -0700
Received: from sulu.orl.mmc.com by animal-farm.nevada.edu id ; Mon, 28 Jun 1993 06:12:55 -0700
Message-Id: 
Received: by sulu.orl.mmc.com
	(1.37.109.4/16.2) id AA19209; Mon, 28 Jun 93 09:12:05 -0400
From: Wes Jester 
Subject: /R/Reilly.Paddy/SpancilHill.crd
To: jamesb@animal-farm.nevada.edu (jamesb@nevada.edu)
Date: Mon, 28 Jun 93 9:12:05 EDT
Mailer: Elm [revision: 70.85]

                                    Spancil Hill
                                                 CAPO      

          Am (x02210@1)                G (320003@1)                  Am (x02210@1) 
          Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by,
                                             C (x32010@1)           G (320003@1)         Me mind being bent on rambling, to Ireland I did fly,
            Am (x02210@1)                         C (x32010@1)             G (320003@1)         I stepped aboard a vision, and followed with a will,
                Am (x02210@1)            G (320003@1)                     Am (x02210@1)         And I shortly came to anchor, at the cross on Spancil Hill.


          It being the 23rd of June, the day before the fair,
          When Irelands' sons and daughters, in crowds assembled there,
          The young and the old, the brave and the bold,
          Came their joy to fulfill, there were jovial conversations
          At the fair at Spancil Hill.


          I went to see my neighbors, to hear what they might say,
          The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning gray,
          I met with the tailor Quigley he's as bald as ever still,
          Sure he used to make me britches when I lived in Spancil Hill.


          I paid a flying visit to my first and only love,
          Shes 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 Nell  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 times before,
          The cock he crew the morning, he crew both loud and shrill,
          And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.