Mary Ann



Fare you well my own Mary Ann

Fare you well my dear,

For the ship is a-waiting and the wind blows high

And I am bound away to the sea, Mary Ann.



The pride of all the produce rare

That in our garden grew

Was pumpkins, but none could compare

In angel form with you my dear Mary Ann.



A lobster boiling in the pot

A bluefish on the hook

They're suffering long, but it's nothing like

The ache I bear for you my dear Mary Ann.



From Seeds of Love, Sedley.

Note: Apparently a burlesque of Turtle Dove, Mary Ann is an

Anglo-American music hall song of the 1850s.



@love @animal @food

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