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The Cook is Typhoid Mary 

By Elton Camp

Some folks who most think are real
Are myths, as scrutiny will reveal.
Too bad that we have been so fooled.
In England, King Arthur never ruled.

But others who are real enough
Are thought to be fictional stuff.
Typhoid Mary is a case in point.
She, as myth, most will anoint.

Mary Mallon was the name of a cook
Who deserves place in history’s book.
“But never typhoid have I had.
It is unfair to treat me so bad.”

That Mary was a carrier to her was unclear.
Could contaminate any food she came near.
Once there was a man of wealthy and power.
His children developed typhoid the same hour.

Mary had heard the story before.
She went scurrying out the door.
“This also happened in house were I used to be,
But there is no reason to think it was due to me.”

Authorities found her and tried to explain
Why to work as a cook she must refrain.
At them, Mary began to curse and yell.
“You get out here and kindly go to hell.”

“Cooking is the only type of work I know.
I refuse.  And that I very plainly tell you so.”
Mary’s hot Irish temper caused the doctor to back down.
When he regathered his courage, she couldn’t be found.

Soon, of typhoid there was yet another outbreak.
Which was due to cook Mary’s own mistake.
This time she quietly seemed to agree.
“A job as cook no more will I come to see.”

But when her money began to run low,
Back to work in a kitchen Mary did go.
When typhoid appeared in that household,
Authorities of poor Mary took a firm hold.

“A hospital is where you will come to be.
Remain until to our terms you will agree.”
Mary’s resistance had been for naught.
As a menace, she had now been caught.

“This is the same as having me in jail.
So I will obey this time without any fail.”
The doctors endorsed Mary’s release.
“But work as a cook must ever cease.”

What happened do I need to explain?
Loyal to her word she didn’t remain.”
The Court ordered Mary put away.
“Stay under lock to your dying day.”

To release her there were no more tries,
But eventually Mary began to bake pies.
But who bought and ate them may be a big surprise.
They were baked, so pies were safe in warden’s eyes.

Nobody ever got typhoid from Mary again.
And the good jailers treated her as a friend.
But to me the words are just far too scary:
“These pies were cooked by Typhoid Mary.”
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