Well Mary was a lass

From the lower class 

She was an Irish emigree 

When she arrived in New York 

In a kitchen she found work 

Cooking meals in the Bowery 



In that kitchen Mary baked 

and never took a break 

and the people wolfed it down 

But bellies growled 

more than they should 

From eating all they could 

'Til they were buried in the ground 



Oh Mary, Typhoid Mary 

Your kitchen wasn't clean 

The dead are dead I reckon 

because they asked for seconds 

Your kitchen wasn't clean 



The city was scared 

And began to despair 

Where could this plague 

come from so crude? 

And the cops began to wonder 

Why all those gone asunder 

had eaten Mary Mallon's food 



So like a crook she was sought 

and Mary was caught 

The charge she did not understand 

Her stools were tested 

And Mary was arrested 

If only she'd washed her hands 



Oh Mary, Typhoid Mary 

Your kitchen wasn't clean 

The dead are dead I reckon 

because they asked for seconds 

Your kitchen wasn't clean 



In the hands of the state 

she died in thirty eight 

The advice her survivors left - 

If a meal makes you faint 

Then make a complaint 

And ask to see the chef