Rosemary, Rosemary,
There's a Pig in your garden,
With silk bristles frizzy
And tushes of snow!
But Rosemary was cautious,
She said, "Beg your pardon!
I'm really too busy
To look down below."
Rosemary, Rosemary,
There's a Bird in your kitchen!
His voice is gold water,
He says, "Pretty Poll!"
But Rosemary heard nothing,
Putting stitch after stitch in
The dress of a daughter,
Her thirty-sixth doll.
Rosemary, Rosemary,
A silver-ringed Rabbit!
He bridles and gentles
And wants you astride!
"I prefer," said Rosemary,
"To ride a Good Habit."
She went buying black lentils-
She did till she died.
