The Ireland
Information website [visit
link] contains the lyrics to 'Cockles and Mussels':
"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 cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!
Alive, alive-O!
alive, alive-O!
Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!
She was
a fish-monger, but sure 'twas no wonderFor so were
her father and mother beforeAnd they
each wheeled their barrowThrough streets
broad and narrowCrying cockles and mussels,
alive, alive-O!Alive, alive-O! alive,
alive-O!Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!
She died of a fever,
and no one could save herAnd that was the
end of sweet Molly MaloneBut her
ghost wheels her barrowThrough streets
broad and narrowCrying cockles and mussels,
alive, alive-O!Alive, alive-O! alive,
alive-O!Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!"
They also provide a link to the audio.
The Tourist Information Dublin website
[visit
link] tells us:
"The Molly Malone statue in Grafton Street was unveiled
by the Lord Mayor of Dublin, Alderman Ben Briscoe to mark the 1988 Dublin
Millennium celebrations. June 13 was declared Molly Malone Day.
The statue was designed by Jeanne Rynhart, and erected
to celebrate the city's first millennium in 1988. The statue is referred to
locally as "The Tart With The Cart", "The Dish With The Fish", "The Trollop With
The Scallop(s)", "The Dolly With the Trolley", and "The Flirt in the Skirt". The
statue illustates Molly as a busty young woman in seventeenth-century
costume.
Molly is the subject of the song song "Molly Malone"
(also referred to as "Cockles and Mussels" and "In Dublin's Fair City") that
tells the story of a fictional fishmonger who sold her wares (cockles and
mussels) on the streets of Dublin, but who died young and whose ghost is said to
haunt the streets of Dublin."
The Irish Historical Mysteries website [visit
link] adds:
"As well as being known and sung internationally, the
popular song 'Cockles and Mussels' has become a sort of unofficial anthem of
Dublin city. The song's tragic heroine Molly Malone and her barrow have come to
stand as one of the most familiar symbols of the capital. In addition, Molly's
international pulling power is shown by the fact that she scores hundreds of
thousands of 'hits' on the Internet, many of them relating to Irish pubs and
restaurants bearing her name. It seems perfectly natural therefore that Molly
should have been commemorated by erecting a statue to her in Dublin, which
monument has become a familiar landmark at the end of Grafton Street. Let us now
travel back in time to see what we can find out about the real Molly
Malone.
Picture the scene: it is Dublin city 300 years ago, on a
balmy summer evening on 12 June 1699 to be precise. The city then was not as we
know it now, and in place of spacious, straight thoroughfares there was a warren
of narrow, winding streets, through which it would be difficult if not
impossible to drive a motor car. We walk down one of these streets on that
summer e'en in 1699, when suddenly our attention is attracted by a small crowd
gathered around a figure on the ground.
Moved by a mixture of curiosity and concern, we join the
crowd to discover what is amiss. We see that the object of attention is a young
woman, no longer of this world but with a strange look of peace on her ravaged
features. She is dressed in a full-length, full-sleeved, lined chemise, an
overshirt and basque of wool, and Spanish zapota shoes. Despite the pallor of
death, we can see that she was a fine strong and attractive girl, with an
especially well-developed bust.
'Who is it?', someone asks. 'Tis Molly Malone the
fishmonger, and she is no more', replies a young lad. 'God's judgment has come
upon her', adds a plump housewife, probably the lad's mother, 'for as well as
her trade of fishmonger she was a part-time hussy also'.
'Be charitable and speak ye not ill of the dead,
woman!', interjects another voice. We turn to identify the newcomer, and from
his dress and demeanour it is clear he is a medical man, a chirurgeon or
apothecary perhaps. Bending down, he examines the dead girl, and after a minute
or so rises and addresses the gathering: 'If this unfortunate female has not
been taken by the typhoid fever, then has she succumbed to a disease of venery,
and in either case ye had better step back lest ye be contaminated by noxious
vapours!'.
We disperse quickly like the rest, making our way back
to our lodgings in a nearby tavern. There the talk is all of the dead Molly
Malone, and of her short and tragic life. The tavern keeper informs us that
Molly's parents are also in the fish-selling business, and reside near Fishamble
Street, where the trade is mostly carried on. 'In a city full of pretty girls,
she was one of the prettiest, and that is how she came to ply another trade as
well', our host tells us sadly.
We learn that Molly had wheeled her wheel barrow from
the Liberties to the more fashionable Grafton Street, crying 'Cockles and
Mussels' as she went. At nights another and less admirable Molly appeared, as
her chemise, basque and zapotas were replaced by an even more revealing dress,
fish-net tights and stillettoes. Thus provocatively attired, she sallied forth
looking for clients, who tended to include students of Trinity College, a place
renowned for its debauchery. Yet, we reflect, in all probability Molly was more
sinned against than sinning.
Our fascination with Molly brings us next morning to the
church of St John, off Fishamble Street, where her funeral is to be held. We
join her grief-stricken parents, relatives and friends as the minister begins
his sermon. 'Thirty-six years ago with my own hands I baptised Molly Malone in
St Andrew's Church, and today it falls to me to perform the sad duty of her
obsequies', intones the parson. Having reflected on the godliness of the fish
trade - 'For were not Peter and several of the Apostles fishermen?' - the
minister concludes with an impassioned plea to the congregation: 'Do not judge
too harshly this poor, abused Magdalene who has now herself been hauled in on
the net of God's love'. Afterwards we stand discreetly at the edge of the circle
of mourners as Molly's coffin is lowered into the ground in St John's
Churchyard, writing the saddest and final chapter in her short
life.
The years pass, but Molly is not forgotten in her native
city. The ballad mongers commemorate her in a song entitled 'Cockles and
Mussels', which begins, 'In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I
first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone'. On dusky evenings you may still hear
the eerie sound of a handcart traversing Dublin's cobbled streets, wheeled 'tis
said by the unquiet spirit of Molly Malone.
During Dublin's Millennium in 1988, which was held to
celebrate the discovery by historical experts that the city had been founded
1,000 years before, it was decided to erect a statue of Molly. This monument now
stands appropriately enough at the end of Grafton Street, around the corner from
St Andrew's Church where she was baptised, and in an area where she plied her
trades. A thought occurred on the 300th anniversary of her death in 1999: what
better way to commemorate her than by declaring 13 June to be International
Molly Malone Day, accompanied by a Molly Malone Summer School. Stand in front of
Molly's statue, look into her sad eyes, see almost the tremulous heaving of her
bosom, and marvel at the City of Culture where heritage is kept so alive, alive
o!"