In Dublin’s far 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!

Alive, alive oh! Alive, alive oh!

Crying cockles and mussels,

alive, alive, oh!

She was a fishmonger,

but sure ‘twas no wonder

for so were her father and mother before;

and they both wheeled their 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!

Alive, alive oh! Alive, alive oh!

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;

but her ghost wheels her 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!

Alive, alive oh! Alive, alive oh!

Crying cockles and mussels,

alive, alive, oh!