In Dublin's fair city,
Where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow
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!"

She was a fishmonger,
And sure 'twas no wonder,
For so were her father and mother before,
And they each 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!"

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, "cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!"

Alive, alive oh! Alive, alive oh!
Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!

Traditional Irish folk song


Also the subject of the odd filk here and there; it's got such a catchy and simple tune. I like Allan Sherman's version:

She wheels her wheelbarrow
Through streets that are narrow.
Her barrow is narrow
Her hips are too wide.
And wherever she wheels it,
The neighborhood feels it:
Her girdle keeps scraping the walls on each side.

In Dublin's fair city,
Where girls are so pretty,
My Molly stands out, 'cuz she weighs eighteen stone (that's 252 pounds).
I don't mind her fat, but(t),
It's not only that, but,
She's cockeyed and muscle-bound Molly Malone.

OK, a little silly, but fun.

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