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When the Black Death started spreading,
panic commodity
was fear available readily
Corpse collector became a bane occupation,
bubonic cleansing     a despised, 
	dirty vermin job
Long hours, and lonely company
Perks of the daily peril: Tavern expenses were free,
	by writ royal decree
Most everybody in the riotous den
was the cadaver collector’s friend
But only a few ever sat too close ... 
	superstition
was London foggy palpable
Cobble stone alert
came by way of the cathedral chimes
		Clear passage to the central pyre
	was the only living certainty
that the cleansing would always proceed
Unknown initially   was the fact   that rats
were the cause of the disease
Gnawing tails   the creeping enemy
		Compounded by public filth — 
	garbage strewn in the streets
The only collection was the dead bodies
Dark Age ignorance
was what needed cleansing

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