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As I came down through Dublin City |
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At the hour of twelve at night |
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Who should I spy but a Spanish lady |
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Washing her feet by the candlelight |
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First she washed them, then she dried them |
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Over a fire of amber coals |
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In all me life I ne'er did see |
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A maid so sweet about the soul |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Ray lady |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Rye aye |
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As I came back through Dublin City |
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At the hour of half past eight |
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Who should I spy but the Spanish lady |
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Brushing her hair in the broad daylight |
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First she brushed it, then she tossed it |
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On her lap was a silver comb |
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In all me life I ne'er did see |
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A maid so fair since I did roam |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Ray lady |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Rye aye |
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As I returned to Dublin City |
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As the sun began to set |
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Who should I spy but a Spanish lady |
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Catching a moth, in a golden net |
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First she saw me, then she fled me |
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Lifted her petticoats o'er her knee |
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In all me life I ne'er did see |
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A maid so fair as the Spanish lady |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Ray lady |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Rye aye |
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I've wandered north and I have wonder south |
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Through Stoney Barter and Patrick's close |
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Up and around, by the Gloucester Diamond |
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And back by Napper Tandys' house |
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Auld age has laid her hands on me |
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Cold as a fire of ashy coals |
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But there is the love of me Spanish lady |
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A maid so sweet about the soul |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Ray lady |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Rye aye |
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Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Ray lady |
|
Whack for the Too Rye, ooh, Rye aye |
