Pockets full of posie
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down
I loved this rhyme as a kid. Hours of my childhood were spent holding hands in a circle and twirling and falling down and giggling like mad. Then I grew up. I don't know if it's true that this is about the black plague, but I hope it is. It takes on new meaning as you get older - pray around a rosary, fill your pockets with flowers and hopes and loves and all that stuff, but eventually, you're going to die.
Memento mori. Remember you must die.
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