The Ballad of Molly Malone

The beautiful young fishmonger portrayed in "The Ballad of Molly Malone", and in the Grafton Street statue shown below, was most likely a true figure who peddled seafood from a cart in early 19th century Dublin. Having sold fish with her mother as a young child she grew up to push her own cart as a teenager.

Rendition of Molly Malone by "The Dubliners & Clancy Brothers"

The Story Behind the Song

The young Timothy Pendleton, an itinerant musician who played his fiddle on Dublin's street corners was smitten with Molly. She died of a fever, very likely during one of the many cholera epidemics that hit Dublin, and was buried in her native city with a simple grave marker. Pendleton was distraught and crossed the Atlantic to start a new life on Portsmouth, New Hampshire. He started as a dock worker but eventually became a successful merchant, never marrying and living alone in a large house.

It is said that one night, many years after arriving in the States, that Pendleton was moved to play the violin he hadn't touched since leaving Ireland. He surprised himself by playing the now familiar, haunting melody. Then, amazingly, the beautiful Molly Malone paid him a visit - or did she? Was it just a dream? We'll never know for sure, will we?

Molly Malone Lyrics

Classic Irish rugby song. No word on the truth of the story,

but Molly's barrow now stands at the end of Grafton Street on the corner of St Stephens Green.

 In Dublin's fair city, Where girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she pushed her wheelbarrow, Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!

Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!  Crying, Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!

Now she was a fishmonger, And sure twas no wonder,
For so were her mother and father before,
And they each wheeled their barrow, Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!

Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!  Crying, Cockles 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, Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!

Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!  Crying, Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!