Spancil Hill
Spancil Hill was written by Michael Considine, a Clare man who emigrated to the United States in the late 19th century. Michael intended to save enough money for his swetheart Mary MacNamara (Mack the Ranger’s Daughter) to follow him to America but owing to ill health could never save enough money for the boat fare. Michael penned the poem shortly before his death and sent it home to relatives in County Clare. Mary MacNamara remained faithful to his memory and never married. The Spancil Hill Fair refenced in the song takes place on the 23rd June every year and dates back over 300 years. Christy Moore recored the best known version of Spancil Hill.
Spancil Hill
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 Mack the Ranger’s Daughter and the flower of Spancil HiII
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.
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