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