THE SPANISH LADY
(Traditional)
The Dubliners


As I came up through Dublin City
At the hour of twelve at night
Who should I spy but a Spanish lady
Washing her feet by candlelight
First she washed them, then she dried them
Over a fire of angry coal
In all my life I ne'er did see
A maid so sweet about the sole

Whack for ma toora loora laddy
Whack for ma toora loora lay
Whack for ma toora loora laddy
Whack for ma toora loora lay

As I came up through Dublin City
At the hour of half-past-eight
Who should I spy but a Spanish lady
Brushing her hair by broad daylight
First she brushed it, then she tossed it
On her lap was a silver comb
In all my life I ne'er did see
A maid so fair as I did roam

As I came up through Dublin City
As the sun was near to set
Who should I spy but a Spanish lady
Catching a moth in a golden net
When she saw me, then she fled me
Hitching her petticoat o'er her knee
In all my life I ne'er did see
A maid so blithe as the Spanish lady

I wandered north and I wandered south
Through Stonybatter and Patrick's Close
Up and around by the Gloucester Diamond
Back through Napper Tandy's house
Old age has laid her hand on me
Cold as a fire of ashen coal
But where, oh where is the Spanish lady
Neat and sweet about the sole?