Rosemary

Rosemary's garden blooms with charm and danger, tempting fate with a Black Widow's sting.

Rosemary, Rosemary, you're so contrary; tell me, how does your garden grow?
It grows without weeds, as I care for its needs, my sundress protecting my show!

I can see, oh my gosh, you bent working your squash, with the Sun streaming through, don't you know?
Well, my good man, that has been my plan. I see it works well—here’s a hoe!

If you hoe my garden, I'll grant you this pardon to enjoy some fruit of your labor,
You may come in; I'll allow you this sin, to taste my sweet juices that flow,

If this sounds tempting, I will be exempting the spying on me in the row,
And tomorrow, you'll see, I'll be naked and free, and you will be begging to sow.

I'll grant a reprieve, I'll let you leave; I won't live up to my name,
But if you don't go, you'll get the whole show and see why I'm called Black Widow.

—Noisy Wren