Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With cockleshells, and silver bells, and seven pretty maids all in a row.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With a little love, and silver blood, and seven pretty lads all in a row.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With lots of hate, and silver fates, and seven broken hearts all in a row.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With someone's heart, and silver larks, and seven deaths all in a row.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With baby fine, and silver line, and seven little skulls all in a row.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With cockleshells, and silver bells, and seven pretty maids all in a row."