Music from the Four Corners of Hell

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

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

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

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