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