In Dublin's fair city,
where the girls are still pretty
we again see the sight of sweet Molly Malone
though altered is her ditty
she goes from city to city
"In the land of free-men shall we each stand alone?"
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Now her ghost wheels her barrow
through streets that are narrow
for on high-ways and broad-ways she's forbidden to go
she's no longer fish monger
and her cries are of hunger
she heartens the poor though she is far from the foe
We are strong, we are clever
and never say never
Why is the harvest of youth to be left to the crow?
We once came together
to be free of a tether
Then gave free rein to weeds and the crop cannot grow
Our acre and cottage
is now mess o' pottage
Where can we turn to to regain our pride?
As of old we're reliant
under yoke, we're defiant
Only all-together can we turn the tide.
[I have it out of my system now, I think
]
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