Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by   My mind was spent on rambling to Boston I did fly   I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind   When next I came to anchor at the rocks on Fairmount Hill      It was on the 23rd of June the day before the fair   When Boston sons and daughters and friends assemble there   The young, the old, the brave, and the bold   Came their duty to fulfill   At the parish church on Thatcher, a mile from Fairmount Hill      I went to see old friends there, to see what they might say   The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning gray   I met the broken hills, hazes on as ever still   See I used to crash at his mother's house, when I hung on Fairmount Hill      I paid a fly and visit to my first and only love   She's as white as any lily, and as gentle as a dove   She threw her arm around me saying Andy I love ya still   Oh, she's one Miss Fayes O'Bailey, the pride of Fairmount Hill      I dreamt I fought a violent war for the hand of this darling gal   Against an angry jealous fool by the name of Danny Gill   The clock it rang in the morning, it rang both loud and shrill   When I awoke in California, many miles from Fairmount Hill