When little Mary became unwell,
The doctor came to ring the doorbell.
He claimed that Mary was as good as dead,
While he examined her poor little head.
Little Mary’s parents prepared her grave,
And told their small child to be brave.
Their young daughter was gone by midnight,
Surrounded by satin wearing a dress of white.
But before they laid little Mary to rest,
They tied a string to her finger, then closed the chest.
The thin strand of twine led to a bell,
For if little Mary were to wake, this is how they would tell.
The next night, little Mary opened her eyes and rang three times,
Regrettably, no one was around to hear the chimes.
The bell toppled over and little Mary cried,
Trying to claw her way out, she soon died.
On the following evening, three lives were consumed,
The doctor, the father, and the mother all doomed.
They were found with their eyes scratched out, on the floor,
And little Mary wasn’t so little anymore.
The doctor came to ring the doorbell.
He claimed that Mary was as good as dead,
While he examined her poor little head.
Little Mary’s parents prepared her grave,
And told their small child to be brave.
Their young daughter was gone by midnight,
Surrounded by satin wearing a dress of white.
But before they laid little Mary to rest,
They tied a string to her finger, then closed the chest.
The thin strand of twine led to a bell,
For if little Mary were to wake, this is how they would tell.
The next night, little Mary opened her eyes and rang three times,
Regrettably, no one was around to hear the chimes.
The bell toppled over and little Mary cried,
Trying to claw her way out, she soon died.
On the following evening, three lives were consumed,
The doctor, the father, and the mother all doomed.
They were found with their eyes scratched out, on the floor,
And little Mary wasn’t so little anymore.