Miss Mary, Miss Mary, quite contrary,
how does your garden grow?
Within the lush flora and fauna of the domestic
lies flavors, savory and sweet.
The array of red and green give my lips a lick.
I pluck the plump strawberries: a treat.

Miss Mary, Miss Mary, quite contrary,
how does your garden grow?
The basil in my nose and the rhubarb at my feet.
The warm air of summer swirls around me.
A smile on my lips as I’m called to eat,
“It’s dinner time. Come along, sweet pea.”

Miss Mary, Miss Mary, quite contrary,
how does your garden grow?
With the soil stuck on my trace,
I dash to the grass and glass table of three.
squealing as I hop into my place:
a seat for Mama and Papa, sister, and me.

Miss Mary, Miss Mary, quite contrary,
how does your garden grow?
A grumbling tummy and licked lips,
gather under the maple tree.
I couldn’t imagine a super better than this.
How life could get better, I just don’t see.