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 a pretty 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;
This is the way the gentlemen ride,
Trim, trim, trim.
Presently come the country-folks,
Hobbledy gee, hobbledy gee.