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Collected Poems of Richard Griffin

Collected Poems of Richard Griffin - GLANDERS

GLANDERS


THE rash is travelling across
          My face, what shall I do?
I caught the glanders from my horse.
          The black infection grew,
Taking its ordinary course.
          My spine is in a stew
Beaten by the germ that panders
To that vile disease, the glanders.

The scales are forming on both eyes
          I'm curving like a drom-
edary. Oh these bumble flies!
          I must assume the nom-
deplume "Unclean." I can disguise
That pestilential bomb
(Nit.) The bumble bug meanders
O'er my spine bringing me glanders.

My brain is wandering about
          Playing the game of tag.
The jaundice creeps along. The gout
Aflame! Sunk in a quag-
          mire I writhe, I twist, I shout.
I've run against a snag.
Wretched itching snag which panders
To that vile infection glanders.

That snag, that pestilence the boil
          Madly attacks my gum.
Most painful boil (no soothing oil)
          "Quick, Doctor, stab the jum-
bo. Lance the ulcer—see it coil,
The ring worm oh how bum!
Close yer face, cut out all slanders.
Doctor Danders, cure my glanders."

My countenance is twisted and
          The buzzing ear doth fry.
Microbes all enlisted stand
          Ready to do or die
Scratching away—hard fisted band
          Eating their pigeon pie.
Rank infection now meanders
Through my brain, it is the glanders.

Bumble bugs are eating pie
          Delving in my brain.
Many worms with evil eye
          Stabbing doth disdain
Minor ills. Vile sluggish dye—
          Oh my heart the pain!
'Tis the bumble bug that panders.
To the worm that brings me glanders.

Both my eyes are eaten out.
          Come, ye bugs, begin.
Twist my rubber neck about
          Do thy work; yea, spin
Wire through my brain. No doubt
          I will lose my chin.
All is lost the bug' meanders
Through my spine. I have the glanders.

Oh my eye my gullet! What's
          The matter with my ear?
Th'hammer on my ear now swats.
          One brazen frozen tear
Now dots my face. Such queer hard knots
          Are tugging at my heart.
          My lungs have burst apart.
My liver—Oh that porcupine!
Begone, keep off my ragged spine.
          The bright red blood, it spatters
          That crimson flood what matters,
The ring worm—Oh, oh, Mercy—*

* Just about this time the unhappy man died.

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