As I went down through Dublin city br At the hour of twelve of the night, br Who did I see but a Spanish lady br Washing her feet by candle light. br First she washed them, br Then she dried them, br All by a fire of amber coals, br In all my life I never did see br A maid so neat about the soles. br br I asked her would she come a-walking, br And we went on where the small bats flew, br A coach I called then to instate her, br And on we went till the grey cocks crew. br Combs of amber br In her hair were, br And her eyes had every spell, br In all my life I never did see br A maid whom I could love so well. br br But when I came to where I found her, br And set her down from the halted coach, br Who was there waiting, his arms folded, br But that fatal swordsman, Tiger Roache? br Then blades were out, br And 'twas thrust and cut, br And never wrist gave me more affright, br Till I lay low upon the floor br Where she stood holding the candle light.