Luyện nghe bài hát Spancil Hill

Last as I lay dreaming,
of the pleasant gone by,
My mind bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly.

I on board a vision
and it with a will,
I gladly came to anchor
at the of Spancil Hill.

And our duty did commence, we all knelt down in prayer,
In hopes for to be ready, to the Golden Stair.
And when back home returning, we with right good will,
To Martin Moilen's music, at the of Spancil Hill.

It being on the twenty third of June, the day the fair,
Sure Erin's and daughters, they all assembled there.
The young, the old, the stout and the bold, came to sport and kill,
a curious combination, at the Fair of Spancil Hill.

So I paid a flying visit, to my and only love,
She's as pure as any lily, and as as a dove.
She threw her arms me, saying Mike I love you still,
And she's Mack the Ranger's daughter, and the Pride of Hill.

It a Sabbath morning, I thought I heard a bell,
O'er hills and vallies sounded, in that seemed to tell
Of the Joyous King of Angels, his Blessings spill,
On that Glorious spot of Nature, the Cross of Hill.