We all remember the nursery rhyme
with its pockets full of posies.
All together we would cheerfully chime,
our incomprehension showing.

Now, one by one, it is coming true,
Our fingers lose their grip.
The Reaper comes to claim his due.
To Death's tune we're forced to skip.

One by one they slip away.
We commit our loved ones to the earth.
Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down
Its scant comfort at best, that nursery rhyme verse:

Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down