Weed pulling unearths grisly origin of childhood rhyme
“Silver Bells and Cockle Shells”
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.
I thought of that verse a while ago because I found a good crop of weeds near a little tree I’d transplanted in the yard. Several of them were plants that my dad used to call “cockles,” and he hated them almost as much as he hated wild mustard.


