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!