| As I came down through Dublin City
|
| At the hour of twelve at night
|
| Who should I see but the Spanish lady
|
| Washing her feet by candlelight
|
| First she washed them, then she dried them
|
| Over 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 came back through Dublin City
|
| At the hour of half past eight
|
| Who should I spy but the Spanish lady
|
| Brushing her hair in the broad daylight
|
| First she tossed it, then she brushed it On her lap was a silver comb
|
| In all my life I ne’er did see
|
| A maid so fair since I did roam
|
| 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 over her knee
|
| In all my life I ne’er did see
|
| A maid so shy as the Spanish lady
|
| Whack for the toora loora laddy
|
| Whack for the toora loora lay
|
| Whack for the toora loora laddy
|
| Whack for the toora loora lay |