By M. Smith



Crazy Mary from London berry

Lives next door to the cemetery

How many lovers have you buried

We would shout, running scared

Along the green and golden paths

That took us home, away from Crazy Mary



In the lamplight burning low

Dimly through enchanted woods

She rocks beside the fire that never was lit

And as we ran on by

Pretending to be frightened

We'd shout and laugh at Crazy Mary



She would never answer us

Smiled through the window softly

Wild-eyed and wild-haired but we were sure

That in the dark of night

She cursed us soundly, casting spells

And such to turn us into donkeys



So it seems that older now

We stand upon this wind-swept moor

The lonely grave before us

Testifies that Crazy Mary sings and dreams

He dreams somewhere

But not where little kids can follow after



And on the stone, these words, dear friend

Please write me down as one who loved

The raven-haired and laughing lads

That swore that they would marry me

And soon their sons came running by

And here I lie, forgotten, Crazy Mary.