Mary, Mary Dysentery
Hated by all as a matter of fact
The townsfolk may have spared her
Had she shown a shred of tact
The baker down the street
Thought that Mary was a bitch
He said that he should much preferred
That she'd starved in a ditch
The cobbler said that he as well
Would vote to have her slaughtered
To have her whipped, to have her chained
To have her drawn and quartered
The butcher had it in for her
As did the tanner in the fen
The lawyer and the carpenter
And the smith down in the glen
The parish vicar shook his fist
With odious detestation
He thought that Mary was a cow
Who deserved much castigation
And everybody hated her
For everything she said
To each and every wife
Who's man came to her bed
The major too had bedded her
And rang his copper bell
He called all the men together
And they drowned her in a well
Mary, Mary Dysentery
Where is your garden fair
Around a well under Ipswich's bell
At the foot of the Chapel's stair
-o0o-
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