it's happy hour o'clock and yer out on the town
got yer boots all laced up and yer blouse hangin' down
another drink's on the table and ya bring it to yer lips
chug the whole bugger down cuz yer tired o' takin' sips
surrounded by yer friends, the whole lot feelin' jolly
it's all a pretty ready fit for a lassy named molly
and with the usual round of suitors, all a lady's delight
you can already tell it's gonna be a typical night

Six A.M. you wake up under the table
spent the last night porkin' in the backstreet stable
straight to yer left there's a slumberin' man
got yer vomit on his britches and your necklace in his hand
ya rise to yer feet and ya struggle to stand
make a short self pep-talk and a reprimand
because one of these days you'll hafta make a choice
and yer sick of seein' yer name in the Village Voice

so what's it gonna be, miss molly?
what's it gonna be, fairy folly?
what's it gonna be, miss molly?
shot of gin in my hand but you might just drink the bottle yourself

a day in the life of a young irishwoman
got a half dozen kids clinging vying for yer bosom
got the wash on the line but the line's a-comin' down
a mighty squalor's headin' over from the west side of town

you pull the young'ns inside and then ya brace for the worst
a mighty tempest's gone a-hungry and she's wettin' her thirst
but through the silt and the storm you stand firm your ground
because ya know just what'll happen if ya don't stick around

so what's it gonna be miss molly?
what's it gonna be, pretty polly?
what's it gonna be, miss molly?
got a gun in my hand but ya might just pull the trigger yerself

good golly miss molly there's a lecter in the ollie
got a fooner for a folly and a trailer on the lolly
call 'em back leutenent ollie there's a sniper on the trolley
and a jarvie in the holly and a latchky stikin' jolly
and there's a loli with a dolly and a trolley in a folly
but they all don't hold a candle to the beauty miss molly

a young man sits alone by himself
he reaches up and plucks a song off a shelf
you can see in his eyes that he's still just a lad
and yet you get a sense of all the good fun to be had

and like a true starving artist he's but bones and skin
but it don't stop him from composing just for you on a whim
you can tell that the tune is plucked straight from his heart
and so ya think you might just take his hand and give him a start

what's it gonna be miss molly?
what's it gonna be, fern gully?
what's it gonna be, miss molly?
cuz we'll soon be food for ferrets when the reaper comes a-calling!
what's it gonna be miss molly?
what's it gonna be, good golly?
what's it gonna be, miss molly?
got some questions in yer head but i might just know the answers myself...