The Spanish Lady

I walked down thro' Dublin city

at the hour of twelve at night,

who should I spy but a Spanish lady

washing her feet by candle light.

First she washed them,

then she dried them,

o'er a fire of amber coal...

All my life I n'er did see

a maid so neat about the sole.

Whack for the toora loora lady

Whack for the toora loora lee

Whack for the toora loora lady

Whack for the toora loora lee

As I came back thro' Dublin city

at the hour of half past eight,

who should I spy but a Spanish lady

brushing her hair in broad day light.

First she tossed it

then she brushed it

on her lap was a silver comb.

In all my life I never did see

So fair a maid since I did roam.

As I went down through Dublin city

when the sun began to set

who should I see but a Spanish lady

catching a moth in a golden net

When she saw me,

then she fled me

lifting her petticoat over the knee

In all my life I n'er did spy

a maid so blithe as the Spanish lady.