[Mistress Mary, quite contrary,]

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle shells,

And maidens all in a row.

[When I was a little boy, my mother kept me in,] Now I am a great boy, and fit to serve the king; I can handle a musket, I can smoke a pipe, I can kiss a pretty girl at ten o’clock at night.

[Mary had apretty bird,]

Feathers bright and yellow,

Slender legs, upon my word

He was a pretty fellow.

The sweetest notes he always sung,

Which much delighted Mary,

And often where the cage was hung,

She stood to hear Canary.

[This is the way the ladies ride,]

Prim, prim, prim;