Not a Nursery Rhyme
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
how does your magic grow?
With whispered spells and hidden dells
and pretty maids all in a row,
and pretty maids all in a row.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
how does your power grow?
With muffled knells and darkened cells
and deadly maids all in a row,
and deadly maids all in a row.
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