"Oh Mary Contrary, how does your garden grow?"
A hushed question that escapes from his lips
as the wind makes the rose petals fly through the sky
I know why he's here
I know why he spends all his time
tending to the flowers
It's just to see the mess of them that grow upon my head
slowly they take away my vision
and even my health

"Come with me and you'll be the seventh maid in a row."
I shake my head, laughing a little bit
"You're too late..."
"Why is that?"
"I'm afraid...you don't want to know."

Yet he never listened
and in that final moment
in the garden
He said
"Oh Mary Contrary, how does your garden grow?"
The tears leaking from his eyes
"Stay with me, I can't see anywhere that we could go."
I knew he was all alone without me
Cold and dark...
But all I could say was...
"I'm sorry, this flower's already dead."