In Dublin’s fair city, where girls are so pretty

’Twas there that I first met sweet Molly Malone

She wheeled her wheelbarrow through streets broad and narrow

Crying, “cockels and mussels alive, alive-o”

She was a fishmonger, but sure ’twas no wonder

For so were her father and mother before

And they each wheeled their barrow through streets broad and narrow…

She died of a fever and no one could save her

And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone

Her ghost wheels her barrow through streets broad and narrow