# THE PESTILENCE COMETH When death's black hand doth mark the door, And bells toll day and night, The village weeps for souls no more, God's children lost from sight. The buboes swell like demon's eyes, As fever burns the flesh, We pray to saints in Paradise, As corpses pile afresh. *Chorus:* Miserere, miserere, The plague doth walk among us, Lord spare thy flock, we beg of thee, The pestilence hath stung us. The healers with their beaked masks come, With herbs and bitter root, The priest gives last rites, solemn, glum, While death doth count its loot. The wealthy flee to countryside, The poor in hovels wait, No rank or coin can turn the tide, When plague decides thy fate. *Chorus:* Miserere, miserere, The plague doth walk among us, Lord spare thy flock, we beg of thee, The pestilence hath stung us. The maiden fair now rots away, The babe at breast grows cold, The strong man's might doth swift decay, None live to grow so old. We flagellate to cleanse our sin, For surely 'tis God's wrath, That brings this scourge upon our kin, And clears the righteous path. *Chorus:* Miserere, miserere, The plague doth walk among us, Lord spare thy flock, we beg of thee, The pestilence hath stung us. The dance of death leads all away, Both pauper, knight and king, The carts piled high at break of day, No funeral bells do ring. In shallow pits the bodies laid, With quicklime thrown above, Our world is broken, unafraid, We await heaven's love. *Chorus:* Miserere, miserere, The plague doth walk among us, Lord spare thy flock, we beg of thee, The pestilence hath stung us.
