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 coals
In all my life I ne'er did see 
a maid so neat about the soul

 [bad word] 
Whack fol the toorah loorah laddie
Whack fol the toorah loorah lay
Whack fol the toorah loorah laddie
Whack fol the toorah loorah lay

As I came back through Dublin city 
at the time of half past eight
Who should I see but the Spanish lady 
 [bad word] her hair so trim and neat
First she teased it, then she [bad word] it, 
on her lap was a [bad word] 
In all my life I ne'er did see 
so fair a maid since I did roam

(Repeat [bad word] 

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 petticoats over her knee
In all my life I ne'er did see 
a maid so [bad word] as the Spanish lady

(Repeat [bad word] 

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 with you 
straightway through the Bridewell Gate"
I thew a kiss to the Spanish lady, 
hot as a fire of angry coal
In all my life I ne'er did see 
a maid so sweet about the soul

(Repeat [bad word] 

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 foot-sore
First she coaxed me, then she chid me,
 then she laughed at my sad plight
In all my time I ne'er did see 
a maid so sweet as on that night

(Repeat [bad word] 

I've wandered north and I've wandered south, 
through Stoneybatter and Patrick's Close
Up and around by the Gloucester Diamond, 
round by Napper Tandy's house
Old age has laid her hand on me, 
cold as a fire of ashy coals
But where is the lovely Spanish lady, 
neat and sweet about the soul?