A/N: Based off of the stories of the Bubonic plague during the Middle Ages.
Death, in the form of dark angels
Came swooping down one night.
To make us all so cold,
And give us all a fright.
I sat by my window,
And watched it creeping by
Carrying plague and sadness.
Oh! Our time is nigh!
The children went first,
Their mouths tinged with red.
Then came Mrs. Attercop,
Who died in her bed.
Cathy was next, accused of heresy,
She was burned at the stake.
Friar Mitchell met his maker
After visiting the church to partake.
Old blind beggar Thompson finally saw the light,
When hit by a dead-cart driver.
Young twins, Mary and Paul,
Croaked in a syver
I sat silently, watching.
Waiting for when the angels knocked on my door,
Dragging me, kicking and screaming.
I will not so easily lose this war.
But ’twas not my door they reached come morn.
Instead, my love,
(Oh, dearest young Sigourney!)
Followed those deceiving angels above.
