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!

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