Classic Poem

Hard by the Wildbrooks I met Mary
When berries smelled sweet and hot—
Mary, I fancy, was seven years old,
And I am never mind what.

‘What are you getting?’ I asked Mary
‘Blackberries. What are you?’
‘Toadflax,’ I answered Mary, ‘and mushrooms.’
‘How many mushrooms?’ ‘Two.’

‘Going to have blackberries stewed for dinner,
‘Or blackberry jam?’ said I.
‘Not goin’ to have neither, said Mary;
‘Goin' to have blackberry pie.’

‘Aren't you lucky!’ I said to Mary.
‘And what sort of name have you got?’
‘ My name's Mary,’ said Mary; ‘what's your name?’
I told her never mind what.

‘Good-bye, Mary.’ ‘Good-bye,’ said Mary;
And went on picking and eating.
That's all about my meeting with Mary—
It's my favourite sort of meeting.