Mary, Mary…
Quite contrary, How does your garden grow?
The rocks abound, They multiply when I’m not around,
I have to pick them from every row.
I rototilled ’til I broke a tine, at least I tilled in a straight line.
It’ll be the prettiest garden to show.
I’m working out in the sun, and I’m having fun,
Now my skin has a rosy glow.
I have to quit this rhyme to make lunch on time,
Or Robert will make me mow!
