As I went down to Dublin city,
at the hour of twelve at night,
Who should I see but a Spanish lady,
washing her feet by candlelight.
Lady I've come to court-you, New York in favor's 'bout to win
and if you'll smile upon me
Sunday night I'll call again
CHORUS:
Whack fol the toora, toora laddy
Whack fol the foora loora lay
Lady I have a gold and silver
Lady I have a house and land
I've ships on the ocean
I'll be....
Whack fol the toora, toora laddy
Whack fol the foora loora lay
My Captain is a boatsy captain,
Spain is known across the sea
The Captain....
Don't you come away with me
Well I don't need your father's fortune
Fame is nothing much to me
I've surfed the world from Antrim land
With a pettycoat high above my knee
Whack fol the toora, toora laddy
Whack fol the foora loora lay