“MARY, MARY, QUITE CONTRARY”

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle-shells

And pretty maids all in a row!”

— Mother Goose.

MARY, Mistress Mary,

How does your garden grow?

From your uplands airy,

Mary, Mistress Mary,

Float the chimes of faery

When the breezes blow!

Mary, Mistress Mary,

How does your garden grow?

With flower-maidens, singing

Among the morning hills —

With silvern bells a-ringing,

With flower-maidens singing,

With vocal lilies, springing

By chanting daffodils;

With flower-maidens, singing

Among the morning hills!