"Mistress Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
Not so well, she said, see the lily's dead
Pull it up and out you go
Mistress Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
Far too hot, she cried, see, my rose has died
Dig it up and out you go

Mistress Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow
Had an early frost, now it's gone, it's lost
Dig it up, you're out, you're up
You're out, you're up
You go"

From Broadway's "The Secret Garden"