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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.