As I went out through Dublin City
At the hour of twelve o'clock at night
Who should I see but the Spanish lady
Washing her feet by candlelight
First she washed it
Then she dried it
Over a fire of amber coals
In all my life I never did see
maid so sweet about the soul

Whack for the tur a lur a laddy
Whack for the tur a lur a lay
Whack for the tur a lur a laddy
Whack for the tur a lur a lay

As I went our [bad word] Dublin City
At the hour of half past eight
Who do I see but the Spanish lady [bad word] her hair so trim and neat
First she [bad word] it
Then [bad word] it
On her lap was a [bad word] 
In all my life I never did see
maid so sweet since I did roam

As I walked out through Dublin City
As the sun began to set
Who should I see but the Spanish lady
Catch a moth in her golden net
First she spied me then she fled me
Hitchin' her petticoat over her knee
In all my life ne'er did I see
maid so fair as the Spanish Lady