Mary... Mary... In quite arbitrary,
tone one might ask of you.
How flows the fountain,
How pruned the shrub,
How does your wee garden grow?
Tousled hair,
brown,ginger, fair?
floral like a daisy?
Like a fruit or condiment?
Whatever meets your fancy.
To you and your plot,
I dare ask not,
in raised beds or in rows?
How you might keep your stuff,
so it can surely grow.
A little here,
some off the top,
smooth and quite refreshing.
Take the time to break the knot,
fingers in the garden caressing.
And with a hush,
Mary tends her bush,
and not with lackadaisy,
but with fair and certain touch,
to be trimmed neatly like a lady...
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