On Popping My Clogs Poem by John Carter Brown

I think I'd rather pop my clogs
In summer's warm embrace;
The thought of death in winter
Is more than I could face;

I wouldn't want my children
To freeze while stood around
My grave, all wrapped in woolies,
Me naked in the ground.

So please Lord, take me home
When all the leaves are on the trees;
When no one has a cough, an ache,
A sniffle or a sneeze;

Oh, and if it is no trouble
And you really do not mind,
Please make the summer beautiful
For those I leave behind.