Mary

Mary had a pretty voice,

And Mary liked to sing.

She would sing for every human,

And even for the rats in her attic.

She would sing for the bride,

And the baby baptized at church,

She would sing for her sick daughter,

She would even sing at work.

Mary had a neighbour,

An envious little man,

Who hated her songs,

And wanted them gone.

He baked her a cake,

With flour and poison,

And after that day,

Mary never sang again.

The man felt content,

But the now the flowers in his garden wilted,

And the cows gave no milk,

The fruits were rotten,

And there was pest in the farm.

With no penny in his pocket,

And almost no food in the kitchen,

The man baked a cake again,

With flour and poison.

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