MARY IS MERRY NO MORE

The Lamb that accompanied Mary Without aid of cudgel or rope, Was raised by her sire Elder Berry, And washed with dioxygen soap. Its fleece, like the linen-spread table, Was snow-white: the lambkin was prized And kept from the sheep in the stable Who never were deodorized. The lamb had a yearning for knowledge, And schoolward would follow the lass Till she was admitted to college, A graduate out of his class. Then sheep-eyes were made by the teacher, And Mary was quick to decide 'Twixt him and the poor, woolly creature Who made lambentations and died. She married her Teacher,—a lesson! Dyspeptic and old, he's a fright! Her thoughts fail of fitting expression, So she lams her own kids just for spite. She looks at her spouse with deep loathing, And sighs for her dead quadruped, And wishes the "wolf in sheep's clothing"— Her husband, were dead in his stead. Alas, lass! You've forded the ferry; Your tombstone was graven for two; The lamb, chiseled there, stands for Mary, And the Old English Mary for yew. The lamb reached the end of his tether When Mary ascended on High, But surely, in spite of the wether, They'll meet in the Sweet Bye-and-Bye.