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 broad and narrow,
Crying " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

"Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh",
Crying " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh"

She was a fishmonger, and sure 'twas no wonder,
For so were her father and mother before,
And they both wheeled their barrows through streets broad and narrow,
Crying " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

"Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh",
Crying " [bad word] 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 " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

"Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh",
Crying " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh"
"Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh",
Crying " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh"