Malaria

   A little breeze blew over the sea,
       And it came from far away,
   Across the fields of millet and rice,
   All warm with sunshine and sweet with spice,
   It lifted his curls and kissed him thrice,
       As upon the deck he lay.

   It said, "Oh, idle upon the sea,
       Awake and with sleep have done,
   Haul up the widest sail of the prow,
   And come with me to the rice fields now,
   She longs, oh, how can I tell you how,
       To show you your first-born son!"

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