In old dublin city, where the colleens are pretty Twas there I met my sweet molly malone She drove her wheelbarrow Through streets old and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live o!
Well she was a fishmonger, that was no wonder Her father, her mother were fishmongers too They drove their wheelbarrow Through streets old and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live o! Cockles and mussels, alive a-live o! A-live a-live o! Cockles and mussels alive a-live o!
Well she died of a fever and no one could save her That's how I lost my sweet molly malone Now her ghost drives her barrow Through streets old and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live o! Cockles and mussels
