As I went down to Dublin city,
 At the hour of twelve at 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 my life I ne'er did see
 A maid so sweet about the soul.

CHORUS:
 Whack fol the toora, loora laddi-o
 Whack fol the toora loora lay

 As I went back through Dublin city
 At the hour of half-past eight
 Who should I see but the Spanish Lady
 Brushing her hair outside the gate.
 First she brushed it, then she combed it,
 On her hand was a silver comb.
 In all my life I ne'er did see
 A maid so fair since I did roam.

CHORUS

 As I came back through Dublin city
 As the sun began to set
 Who should I see 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.

CHORUS

 I've wandered north and I've wandered south
 By Stoneybatter and Patrick's Close
 Up and around by the Gloucester Diamond
 And back by Napper Tandy's house.
 Old age has laid her hand on me
 Cold as a fire of ashy coals
 But where o where is the Spanish Lady,
 Neat and sweet about the soul?