As I Roved Out Thro' Dublin City
At The Hour Of Twelve O' The 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 Amber Coal.
In All My Life I Ne'er Did See
A Maid So Neat About The Sole.

Chorus:
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-laddy
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-lee
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-laddy
What For The Too-ra Loo-ra-lee.

As I Came Back Through Dublin City,
At The Hour Of Half-past Eight,
Who Should I Spy But The Spanish Lady,
Brushing Her Hair In Broad Daylight.
First She Toss'd It, Then She Brushed It,
On Her Lap Was A Silver Comb.
In All My Life I Ne'er Did See
So Fair A Maid Since I Did Roam.

Chorus:
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-laddy
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-lee
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-laddy
What For The Too-ra Loo-ra-lee.

As I Went Down Thro' Dublin City
When The Sun Began 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,
Lifting Her Petticoat Over The Knee,
In All My Life I Ne'er Did Spy
A Maid So Blithe As The Spanish Lady.

Chorus:
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-laddy
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-lee
Whack For The Too-ra Loo-ra-laddy
What For The Too-ra Loo-ra-lee.