Brontae_Headshot
Molly

Me & Miss Molly Malone

A seed by: Brontae Hunter
Project: Calling our Ancestors Home
Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on linkedin
LinkedIn
Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn

Pronouns:

She/her
Ancestry:
Irish (southwest coast) and County Donegal

City:

Montreal
 (Tiohtià:ke)

Disciplines:

Music, Theatre, Dance, Literature
original-white
This is an original seed

“How does my personal past shape my present, and how does my present change the way I perceive my past?” These are the central questions Sarah Polley asked in her 2022 essay collection, ‘Run Towards the Danger.’ There were many parallels between my life and Sarah’s, as well as many differences. We both prematurely moved out of our parents’ house, we both worked excessive hours as children, and we both lived with parents who were disabled and suffering illness. Her mother being a casting director, had an understanding of the industry my Mother didn’t have, her Mother died while my Father still lives, and she faced not only demanding but dangerous working conditions during her time as a child performer. I worked in music, while she worked in theatre and tv. I came from a rural working class family, she came from a Toronto middle class family.

Sarah’s essay collection has lead me to think critically about my own past as a child performer, and also the ethics of child performing period. My childhood performing history lead to a teenage performing history. I was sexualized by male audience members before I even started menstruating. I had earned enough money to pay my theatre school tuition before I could drive or before I even knew what I wanted to study. I was processing sexism and power dynamics in the workplace before I had read authors like Bell Hooks or Angela Davis, who would shape my adult thinking on such matters.

Sarah begs the question: in what other line of work do we accept children as workers? She argues that many children want to be astronauts and doctors, but we don’t allow them to do so.

In my family all children went to work. My Father worked on the farm, so did my brother. My Mother worked in her Mother’s dress shop. Her Mother worked in the dress shop as a child too. Her Mother worked in a garment factory as a young girl. Her mother was a midwife, and began studying with her mentor when she was a child. She witnessed the criminalization and decriminalization of midwifery in the Republic of Ireland, which mirrored the criminalization of midwifery we faced in Canada during the same time period. What is the difference between my ancestors and me?

My mother lulled me to sleep, singing the iconic legend of Molly Malone as I was cradled in her arms, or tucked into bed with her hand on my forehead. “She was a fish monger, and sure was no wonder, for so were her Father and Mother before.”

I wanted to adopt these lyrics which so perfectly sum up the Irish affinity for all things intergenerational, shared family traditions, but also devoting one’s legacy to commerce and earning only enough to get by. These lyrics contain the 1800’s original folk poem, and my own lyrics which paint a modern scene of the working performer’s grind. This song is a questioning of capitalism/colonialism, and it’s a spell to break us all free of it.

In Dublin fair city 

Where the girls are so pretty

That’s first where I laid my eyes

On Miss Molly Malone 

She rode her wheelbarrows 

Through streets wide and narrow

Crying cockles and muscles 

Alive alive

I’m alive I’m alive oh

And I’ll put on a show

Come on you’re a show girl

Put on a show

It don’t matter if you’re tired

Zip your dress up chin up and go

Until you know 

You can put on a show 

She was a fishmonger

And sure was no wonder

For so was her father 

And Mother before

They rode their wheelbarrows

Through streets wide and narrow 

Crying cockles and muscles 

Alive alive

I’m alive I’m alive oh

And I’ll put on a show

Come on you’re a show girl

Put on a show

It don’t matter if you’re tired

Zip your dress up chin up and go

Until you know 

You can put on a show 

Instrumental solo

She died of a fever

And no one could save her

And that was the end of 

Miss Molly Malone

Now her ghost wheels her barrows

Through streets wide and narrow

It’s crying cockles and muscles

Alive, alive

I’m alive, alive, oh

And I’ll put on a show

That’s right I’m a showgirl

And I’ll put on a show

It don’t matter if when I’m tired

All I do is cry out to Molly Malone

She carries me home

To the leaves and the trees

And the wide open road

I’m alive

And we’ll put on a show

That’s right I’m a showgirl

And we’ll put on a show

It don’t matter if when I’m tired

Zip my dress up chin up and go

Alive alive oh 

And we’ll put on a show

 

 

 

 

Compelling Moment

Date: January 1, 1970
Location: The County Dublin
, Ireland
, Europe

Collaborations from this Seed

This seed does not have any collaborations yet.
Request to collaborate with Brontae Hunter's Seed
Your Name:
Your Email address:
Title of the Seed:
Me & Miss Molly Malone
Your message to the Artist *