Good Golly Miss Molly

This is meant to be a light-hearted look at human nature. If people irritate you, you should probably skip this column. 

“Cockles and Mussels” is the official name of the song, but it is better known as “Sweet Molly Malone.” It is a traditional Irish folk song that tells the story of Molly Malone, a young woman who sold cockles and mussles from a cart in Dublin. However, she died of a fever and her ghost still haunts Dublin, where the song has become the city’s unofficial anthem. There is little historical evidence that Molly Malone ever hawked her wares on the sidewalks of the city, but Ireland is a country shrouded in mystery. 

What is true is that a bronze statute of Molly was placed on a Grafton Street sidewalk in 1988 during the Dublin millenium celebration and the statue went unmolested by regular Irish folks for 26 years. She was then moved to Suffolk Street in front of the Tourism Office so that work could occur at the Grafton Street location. That location gets lots of visitors. Molly’s statue sports a low-cut dress, giving onlookers a peachy view of the woman who inspired Dublin’s famous anthem. 

It seems that Molly’s lifelike statue, at street level, affords pedestrians the opportunity to enjoy her wares, and I’m not talking about fish. Molly has attractive assets that are the perfect size for picture taking, fondling, gawking, whatever you please. They have been caressed so much that the bronze patina has worn off. Men are the worst offenders apparently. Duh! But even women get in on the act. Where else can you get your picture taken between two glorious globes and not get arrested? OK, Jamaica maybe. But generally, it’s harmless fun, say some. 

Well not so fast. Tilly Cripwell is a student at the famed Trinity College in Dublin. It’s an incredibly beautiful college and houses the Book of Kells. Look it up. She is offended (as am I, despite the slightly comedic tone of my column) and wants people to stop molesting Molly. She points out that male statues are almost always elevated—a good point. Ms. Cripwell also wants a plaque to accompany the statue, explaining Molly Malone and her song. Another good point. I wish her well in her endeavors.

One last request! She wants the patina on Molly’s statue to be restored, since the constant fondling, caressing, cupping, dare I say nuzzling, has worn Molly’s gorgeous gratuities down to a creamy white color, inconsistent with the rest of Molly’s bronze appearance. Ireland is full of pale, and beautiful, women, but realism isn’t for statues. 

The presumption, absent a study delving into the demographics of the offenders, is that most of the maulers are not Irish. The British, Americans, and Germans are the biggest tourist groups to the Emerald Isle, and I know that Americans have no social graces. The Germans are reportedly worse than us. So Molly is probably getting caressed by multinational offenders. But men are men, and women aren’t much better, when it comes to Molly Malone. 

I remain a sexist. And I might have felt obligated above to say I was offended.

Kelly Burke was born in Knoxville where he spent his younger years, followed by high school years in Atlanta where he graduated from Georgia Tech. He then graduated from Mercer Law School. He has been in private practice, a magistrate judge, and an elected district attorney. He writes about the law, politics, music and Ireland. He and his wife enjoy gardening, playing with their Lagotto Ramanolo named George Harrison, and spending time with their grandchildren.