Crazy Mary

<br>By M. Smith<br><br>Crazy Mary from London berry<br>Lives next door to the cemetery<br>How many lovers have you buried<br>We would shout, running scared<br>Along the green and golden paths<br>That took us home, away from Crazy Mary<br><br>In the lamplight burning low<br>Dimly through enchanted woods<br>She rocks beside the fire that never was lit<br>And as we ran on by<br>Pretending to be frightened<br>We`d shout and laugh at Crazy Mary<br><br>She would never answer us<br>Smiled through the window softly<br>Wild-eyed and wild-haired but we were sure<br>That in the dark of night<br>She cursed us soundly, casting spells<br>And such to turn us into donkeys<br><br>So it seems that older now<br>We stand upon this wind-swept moor<br>The lonely grave before us<br>Testifies that Crazy Mary sings and dreams<br>He dreams somewhere<br>But not where little kids can follow after<br><br>And on the stone, these words, dear friend<br>Please write me down as one who loved<br>The raven-haired and laughing lads<br>That swore that they would marry me<br>And soon their sons came running by<br>And here I lie, forgotten, Crazy Mary.