“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. When it appeared that my sister, Joyce, and I didn’t have enough to do to occupy our time, he’d say, “Go out there and pull some mustard and cockles, and don’t drop the seeds!” and he’d send us out in the field of alfalfa with a big bag to haul them in so he could burn them.
I was never sure what the real name of the “cockle” was so I looked for a picture on the Internet. Guess what: It’s called “white cockle.” Cockles (not like the “cockles and mussels” in “Sweet Molly Malone”) have white, fragrant flowers that are at the head of a globular seed pod. The stems can get sort of woody and brittle, making it hard to pull the plant and its long taproot without breaking them off.
I think they’re sort of attractive, but I’m still so programmed by Dad’s dislike of them that I just automatically pull them when I see them.
Dad’s other dastardly weeds were the wild mustard plants that would crop up every year in the hay fields. I thought the yellow blossoms were kind of pretty, but Dad was convinced that mustard not only reduced the yield of the crop, but that the seeds could also cause serious illness in livestock if ingested in large quantities. Dad did a lot of reading of farm magazines, and he knew his stuff.
I don’t think any of our cows ever suffered from the symptoms of mustard poisoning, but that was because Joyce and I made regular forays through the fields collecting it.
When my sister was here in May, we drove to Marshfield a couple of times to visit our aunt, and we saw fields along the way that were severely infested with wild mustard, so we reminisced about the “good ole days” a little. Interesting what kinds of things are stored in our craniums, isn’t it?
But getting back to the nursery rhyme. What the heck is it all about?
“Silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row.” You know me; I did some research and found out that one of the possible origins had to do with Mary Tudor, “Bloody Mary,” daughter of Henry VIII. She was a staunch Catholic, and the garden, according to one source, is an allusion to graveyards that were increasing in size with those who dared to continue to adhere to the Protestant faith.
The silver bells and cockle shells were colloquialisms for instruments of torture. It was said that the “silver bells” were thumbscrews, which crushed the thumb between two hard surfaces by the tightening of a screw, and the “cockleshells” were instruments of torture that were attached to the genitals! The “maids” were guillotines.
So how did Mary’s “garden” grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row! Sort of macabre, but kind of fun stuff, right? I found some other interpretations, too, but they weren’t nearly so delicious as this one.
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