Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row
While strolling the beach one evening on the coast of Quiberon, France, we came across an endless array of snails just covering the vegetation. I couldn't help but to think of the rhyme "Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary..."
Poor Mary would have to respond to
"Mary Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?"
"On these shores, to my horror,
My garden grows escargot!"