The Death
The Death
I would not like to die in winter
When earth is frozen and will not take a spade
They will dig a shallow grave
Bury me in a coffin without a blanket
Then go inside and sit by the fire
Perhaps they will wrap me in canvas put me on
The hey-loft till spring
And collect my old age pension during the cold season
I don`t mind that
Soft soil and flowers on the ground
Dig deep, and I will be a part of spring
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