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. <br /> <br />But, O ye bucks of Dublin city, <br />If I should see at twelve of the night, <br />In any chamber, such lovely lady <br />Washing her feet by candle light, <br />And drying o'er <br />Soles neat as hers, <br />All by a fire of amber coal <br />Your blades be dimmed! I'd whisper her, <br />And take her for a midnight stroll!<br /><br />Padraic Colum<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-old-song-re-sung/
