Pillows asplayed a young girl not more than sixteen

Lies wearing a green dress on milk-white silk sheen

Crowned in orange and pink flowers she’s at bliss

Eyes vacant body a shell her mind barely a hiss

And she watches the trees above her sway across

Like her hips as she turns over unselfconscious

There is no pain here and if she might awake

Gently put her back because if you don’t she’ll break

And there’s no use crying over spoilt milk white skin

Far better to put her to sleep than let her wake

To see the streaks and hear the sounds she will make

Ring-a-ring-a-rosie a pocket full of posie

A tissue a tissue we all fall down