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In old Dublin city, where the colleens are pretty |
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Twas there I met my sweet Molly Malone |
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She drove her wheelbarrow |
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Through streets old and narrow |
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Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O! |
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Well She was a fishmonger, that was no wonder |
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Her father, her mother were fishmongers too |
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They drove their wheelbarrow through streets old and narrow |
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Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O! |
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Cockles and mussels, alive a-live O! |
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A-live a-live O! |
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Cockles and mussels alive a-live O! |
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Well she died of a fever and no one could save her |
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That's how I lost my sweet Molly Malone |
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Now her ghost drives her barrow through streets old and narrow |
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Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O! |
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Cockles and mussels |