As I went down to Dublin city
At the hour of twelve at night,
Who should I see but a Spanish lady
Washing her feet by candle light.
First she washed them, the she dried them
O’er a fire of amber coal,
In all my life I ne’er did see
A maid so sweet about the sole.
Whack for the toora loora laddy,
Whack for the toora loora lay.
Whack for the toora loora laddy,
Whack for the toora loora lay.
As I went back through Dublin city
As the sun began to set,
Who should I spy but the Spanish lady
Catching a moth in a golden net.
When she saw me then she fled me,
Lifting her petticoat o’er her knee,
In all my life I ne’er did see
A maid shy as the Spanish lady.
I’ve wandered north and I’ve wandered
south,
Through Stonybatter and Patrick’s
Close,
Up and around the Glouster diamond
And back by Napper Tandy’s house.
Old age has her hand laid on me,
Cold as fire of ashy coals,
But in all my life I ne’er did see,
A maid to sweet as the Spanish lady.