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!
Cockles and mussels