In Dublin’s fair city, where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow, through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

«Alive, alive, oh, Alive, alive, oh»,
Crying " [bad word] 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, " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

«Alive, alive, oh, Alive, alive, oh»,
Crying " [bad word] 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, " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

«Alive, alive, oh, Alive, alive, oh»,
Crying " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh".

«Alive, alive, oh, Alive, alive, oh»,
Crying " [bad word] and mussels, alive, alive, oh".