Forever etched into my consciousness is a rhyme I heard as a child on a record called “Pudding and Pie”. The nursery rhyme, not unlike “Jack and Jill” or “Rockabye Baby” has its brutal, even violent moments. I don’t know how many other kids have been scarred by “Ladybird, Ladybird”, but the lyrics go something like this:
—
Ladybird, ladybird fly away home,
Your house is on fire
your children will burn,
All except one,
Her name is Ann,
She hid under the frying pan.
—
I hope you’ll agree that my autumnal take on the ladybug is somewhat more playful.