In Dublin’s fair city,
Where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes
On sweet Molly Malone,
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, «Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!».
«Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh»,
Crying «Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh».
She was a fishmonger,
And sure 'twas no wonder,
For so were her father
And mother before.
And they each wheeled their barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, «Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!».
She died of a fever,
And no one could save her,
And that was the end
Of sweet Molly Malone.
Now her ghost wheels her barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, «Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!».