"A dreadfull plague in London was In the year Sixty Five, Which swept an hundred thousand souls away; Yet I alive!"
*
Now that I wane to deathly ways, With twisted spine & bloodied cough, I fondly remember the cheerful days When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
Heaven was marked with portentous comets, Crazed prophets roamed round in the buff, The streets were awash with malodorous vomits When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
There were moanings & wailings & shriekings & yellings Blood-lettings & sweatings, endless huff & puff As our clothes got stretched by our terrible swellings When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
Infectious distemper crawled the land, The gutters choked with wretched stuff, My love's ear came off in my hand When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
The boroughs sounded with desolate cries, The weeping skies were grim enough; Green boils popped in grandma's eyes When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
Sickness stunk in the clammy draft, Sam raved & vomited in the trough - Out came his innards! Oh how we laughed When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
Moldering carcasses swamped the river, Huge pits were dug in the muddy rough, Kevin giggled & crapped out his liver When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
The watchman came & marked our door, Bid us good day, said times were tough, Then boarded us in as we grinned on the floor When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
All we had left was rancid chicken, We stewed it into a horrible broth; It was a very ill time to be sick in When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
We played with the vermin, we talked of the weather, We cheered & we sang till our voices were gruff; It was lovely to have our family together When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.
A rat crawled inside my dead son's head. My wife rotted, oozing with maggotty stuff. Bliss it was to be living - it's no good to be dead, When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off...
Yet, try as I might to paint dark days sunny, Prone on the floor with the doors boarded shut, I'm feeling all lonely & deathly & woeful For black fetid pestilence swells in my gut -
Each gurgling gasp of this festering air Brings me cursedly close to my final choked cough, And I have to confess that it just wasn't funny, No, it just wasn't funny When we all got scabby & our legs dropped off.