The plague is at its height The rats have caused this plight The cart man collects dead bodies Yet the children dance with delight
“Bring out your dead,” the cart man said Bodies piled on by the score Houses were marked with crosses of red Painted on the front door
Nobility and gentry left the City in droves To the poor, the City gates were closed A Certificate of Health was required to leave Without this document they would have to stay and grieve
The Lord Mayor declared, “Kill all the cats” Natural predators of those filthy rats The situation went from bad to worse The children began to sing a little verse
A village called Eyam was infected with the disease By a parcel of clothes infested with fleas The vicar was able to contain his flock Preventing the disease from running amok
London town will soon burn down In the ashes the disease will lie dead In Pudding Lane some lay the blame Where the baker bakes his bread
