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.