These are the words I sing, but perhaps a Dublin 'catter can help better with the placenames.

We do it slowly (it's a sad song, really), introducing the first part of a reel (Christmas Eve) steadily after each chorus, and then up to speed for the full reel at the end (which to my mind gives the impression that he's over her!)

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 candle light.
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 sweet about the soul,

Whack fol the too-ra loo- ra laddy, Whack fol the too-ra loo- ra- lay.

As I came back through Dublin city at the hour of half past eight,
Who should I see but the Spanish lady brushing her hair in the broad daylight.
First she tossed it then she brushed it, on her lap was a silver comb.
In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so fair since I did roam.

Now she's no mot for a puddle swaddy with her ivory comb and her mantle so fine
But she'd make a wife for the Provost Marshall drunk on brandy and claret wine
I got a look from the Spanish lady hot as a fire of ambry coals
In all my life I never did meet a maid so sweet about the soul

I've wandered north and I've wandered south through Stonybutter and Patrick's Close,
Up and around the Gloucester Diamond and back by Napper Tandy's house.
Old age has laid her hand upon me cold as a fire of ashy coal.
In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so sweet as the Spanish lady.

Hope this helps