>> It does read a bit like our modern maxim,
>> 'you can't take it with you, or the delightful equivalent I
>> heard in Ireland recently: 'there are no pockets in a shroud'.
Here's a stanza from MS Laud 615 that pads it out a bit:
Cách a bfuil acat i tig
etir ith is blicht is mil,
nocha berair lat ar sét
in tan racha d'éc, a fhir.
And my jingle-jangle translation:
Everything in your abode,
all your honey, milk and grain,
you can't take it on the road
when it's time to go meet death.