"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!
