Mary, Mary, quite contraryWhere's your white wine, silver, and goldIs it locked now in your mansionHaving pity on the eye's of the poorNow in weary halls of the cathedralMary tries to pray for her soulShe doesn't know the price of her penanceShe find's herself now very oldAnd she goesOh baby, just one more timeWill you please give meSome piece of mineIn the moonlight, in the moonlightIn the room with barred up windowsMary tries to count her goldShe doesn't know the priceOf her wealth nowShe finds herself, very oldAnd she goesMary, Mary where have you gone tooWhere's your white wine, silver and goldIs it locked now in your mansionHaving pity on your soul.