Spancil Hill Fair at Hillview House B&B, Maghera, Tulla, County Clare Ireland bed and breakfast.

Things to do

Visitor Attractions

Local Events

Spancil Hill Fair

Spancil Hill is a real place. It's on the road between Ennis and Tulla. Nowadays there's little there but a crossroads and some ruined buildings but it was once the site of a famous horse-fair. The "Parish Church of Clooney" is only about a mile from Spancil Hill. The area was originally called Cnoc Fuar Choile (the hill of the cold wood), a name that was somehow anglicised to Spancil Hill. The word "spancil" relates to the practice of "spancilling," which was to use a short rope to tie an animal's left fore-leg to its right hind leg, thereby hobbling the animal and stopping it from wandering too far. Make of that what you will.

The Spancil Hill fair usually took place on the 23rd of June. In the song, he arrived on the 23rd, "the day before the fair" but in an earlier verse he said that it was also a Sabbath morning. Observance of the Sabbath would take precedence over the fair which would've started a day late, the 24th.

Now, as for the story behind the song. The author of "Spancillhill", Michael Considine, was born around 1850 and emigrated to the USA from Spancillhill around 1870. Some of his siblings came with him, but some stayed behind. One of his brothers, Patrick, died, leaving his widow to look after a five month old son called John.

Michael went to the USA with the intention of bringing his sweetheart over and for them to be married, but he never saved enough money for her passage. His sweetheart was "Mack the Ranger's Daughter" and not "Ned the Farmers daughter" as in the popularised version. She was his childhood sweetheart, Mary MacNamara.

Michael worked in Boston for two years or so before moving to California. He suffered from ill health for a long time. Knowing he hadn't long to live, he wrote the poem "Spancilhill" to send home in rememberence of his love. He sent the poem to his nephew, John, Patrick's son, in Ireland.

Michael Considine died sometime in 1873. Some sources say he was buried in Spancilhill, but others say he was buried in California. Mary MacNamara remained faithful to his memory and never married.

Pretty tragic, huh?

A folk singer tells the story of how he got the real words to this song. He was a at a friend's house and when the friend's eldery mother offered him the lyrics. A few years later, the singer was going to perform Spancil Hill, and a gruff voice interrupted and told him not to sing it. When the singer asked why, the voice said, "because you don't know it." When the singer performed it correctly, the man was very surprised and pleased. He identified himself as John Considine, Michael's nephew, who had guarded the words for so many years.

Here are the lyrics.

Spancilhill

Last night as I lay dreaming, of the pleasant days gone by, My mind being bent on rambling and to Erin's Isle I did fly. I stepped on board a vision and sailed out with a will, 'Till I gladly came to anchor at the Cross of Spancilhill.

Enchanted by the novelty, delighted with the scenes, Where in my early childhood, I often times have been. I thought I heard a murmur, I think I hear it still, 'Tis that little stream of water at the Cross of Spancilhill.

And to amuse my fancy, I lay upon the ground, Where all my school companions, in crowds assembled 'round. Some have grown to manhood, while more their graves did fill, Oh I thought we were all young again, at the Cross of Spancilhill.

It being on a Sabbath morning, I thought I heard a bell, O'er hills and vallies sounded, in notes that seemed to tell, That Father Dan was coming, his duty to fulfill, At the parish church of Clooney, just one mile from Spancilhill.

Spancil Hill Fair: www.spancilhillfair.com

Hillview House Bed and Breakfast, Maghera, Tulla, Co Clare Tel: 065 6831927, Mobiles: 087 1250317 or 086 8386006

Site Design and Developed by Automic