The Spanish Lady

As I went out through Dublin City
At the hour of twelve in the night
Who should I see but the Spanish Lady
Washing her feet by candle light
First she washed them, then she dried them
Over a fire of amber coal
In all me life I ne’er did see
A maid so neat about the soul

Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay
Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay

As I came back through Dublin City
At the time of half past eight
Who should I see but the Spanish Lady
Brushing her hair so trim and neat
First she teased it, then she brushed it
On her lap was a silver comb
In all me life I ne’er did see
So fair a maid since I did roam

Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay
Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay

As I went round old Dublin City
When the sun began to set
Who should I meet but the Spanish Lady
Catching a moth in a golden net
When she spied me quick she fled me
Lifting her petticoat over the knee
In all me life I ne’er did see
A maid so gay as the Spanish Lady

Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay
Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay

I stopped to look but the watchman passed
Says he: “Young fella now the night is late
Along with you now or I will wrestle you
Straightway through the Bridewell Gate”
I threw a kiss to the Spanish Lady
Hot as a fire of ambry coal
In all me life I ne’er did see
A maid so sweet about the soul

Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay
Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay

As I went out through Dublin City
As the hour of dawn was o’er
Who should I see but the Spanish Lady
I was lonely and footsore
First she coaxed me, then she chid me
Then she laughed at my sad plight
In all me time I ne’er did see
A maid so sweet as on that night

Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay
Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay

I’ve wandered north and I’ve wandered south
Through Stoneybatter and Patrick’s Close
Up and around by the Gloucester Diamond
And round by Napper Tandy’s house
Old age has laid her hand on me
Cold as a fire of ashey coal
But where is the lovely Spanish Lady
Neat and sweet about the soul

Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay
Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay
Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay
Whack fol the toora loora laddie
Whack fol the toora loora lay