To My Garden

Mary, Miss Mary, oh so contrary

Your garden is overgrown.

With pity shells and cockeyed spells

A maid so oversown

Mary, now Mary, be careful, tread wary

On stones that you dare to turn

Thistles sparring scorn will be charring

A heart that now fails to burn.

Mary, poor Mary who thinks youth is fleeting

Your garden just barely thrives

Your weeds will abound on dead fallow ground

While Complacency swarms like flies.

Mary, oh Mary you long ago danced

And sang of your harvest so grand

Now love you have taken and joy have forsaken

Your rain barrel nothing but sand

Mary, my Mary, a name full of sorrow

A meaning you've worn out dear wife

For sorrow you've bled, and bitter tears shed

Over past sins, your children, your life.

Mary, sweet Mary, a change over long due

A new name I give you to know

For Joy you'll reap more, and love I'll restore

No longer in vain will you sow.