The grate plague

It starts with a little flea, that jumps upon a rat
It bites the rat and gives it germs, and for the rat that's that
Then the flea it looks for, somewhere else to find its food
It hops on you and me and starts to suck our blood

First you feel a little poorly
And then you start to swell
Then you start to spit some blood
And then you really smell
Then you know its time to ring, your funeral bell
Along comes mr. Death
And swishes you to hell

There's lots of cures to help you
If you have the cash.
Kill the village cats and dogs
And burn them all to ash
Sit down in a sewer, so the smell drives plague away
Place chicken bottoms on your spots, and then you'll be okay

First you feel a little poorly
And then you start to swell
Then you start to spit some blood
And then you really smell
Then you know its time to ring, your funeral bell
Along comes mr. Death
And swishes you to hell

Plague kills little children, even more then mums or dads
A priest said its because, the wicked kids have acted bad
Half the people on the earth, are simply blown away
So for mr death these will be really busy days

First you feel a little poorly
And then you start to swell
Then you start to spit some blood
And then you really smell
Then you know its time to ring, your funeral bell
Along comes mr. Death
And swishes you to hell
And swishes you to hell