Molly Malone

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 wide and narrow,
Crying, «Cockles and mussels, alive alive oh!»
«Alive-a-live-oh,
Alive-a-live-oh»,
Crying «Cockles and mussels, alive alive oh».
She was a fishmonger,
And sure 'twas no wonder,
For so was her mother and father before,
And they each wheeled their barrow,
Through streets wide and narrow,
Crying, «Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!»
«Alive-a-live-oh,
Alive-a-live-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.
Now her ghost wheels her barrow,
Through streets wide and narrow,
Crying, «Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!»
«Alive-a-live-oh,
Alive-a-live-oh»,
Crying «Cockles and mussels, alive alive oh».
«Alive-a-live-oh,
Alive-a-live-oh»,
Crying «Cockles and mussels, alive alive oh».