It came on boats

From distant seas,

On the backs of rats,

Too small to see,

Brought to the shore’s

In a sickness in the flea’s

On the shirts, and on the sleeves,

Of the sailors, and the suitors,

On the captains and on the thieves.



The sick spread fair as pirates plunder

And rolled across the land like thunder,

The vomiting, and constant fever,

Boils on necks and armpit’s under,

Blotches black and purple, cover,

Bodies botched, bereft of slumber.



Coughing children shunned by mothers,

Sisters turned on aunts and brothers,

Fear turned families into strangers,

While Babies coughed and died in manger’s



Wagons stacked with bodies, dragged,

And Strewn across the back like rags,

Piled like bags, young men and hags,

Like a farmer selling scarecrows,

Or a hunter selling stags.



And a hunger you can’t abide,
...