wash your hands
Game a’plenty
In the wild Serengeti
Elephant, rhinoceros
Endless meat for us
Lush, jungle clearings
Filled with wild careerings
Of quail, heron
And colorful pelican
We scarcely have the room
All these jungle fruits and nuts to consume
Bananas, mangos
Walnuts, pistachios.
But now hunger stalks our land
Famine shows here withered hand
The rains have ceased
Wild animals deceased
Desert lands increased
We thirst without surcease
Our new race
That had begun to thrive
May not survive.
So many die, so many die
They cannot survive their infancy
I look to the Heavens to tell me why
To give me some clue to this mystery.
None can match
The grandeur of Rome
Nor ever finish
Extolling her Name
The city of eternal fame
Her gladiators, her games
Her aqueducts, her baths
Her vaunted cenotaphs
All tribute to nobility’s prime
All part of her nature sublime.
But her population’s gone into decline
Perhaps she became overrefined
The vaunted eagle’s lame
Her circuses gone, the animals tame
To many baths, running water’s to blame
Or maybe the man
Who washed his hands
Hoping to restrain
The Galilean’s campaign.
So many die, So many die
They cannot survive their infancy
I look to the Heavens to tell me why
To give me some clue to this mystery.
Notre Dame, Chartres
Stained glass windows
Luminous vistas
Translucent billows
The High Mediaeval
The Gothic Cathedral
A cultural pinnacle
That’s never been equaled.
But now the Black Death has her day
Darkness, the gnashing of teeth hold sway
The Pope’s been taken to Babylon
Cosily kept at Avignon
Bonfires burning night and day
Help to keep the plague away
Help protect the Holy See
Through most divine Sterility.
So many die, So many die
They cannot survive their infancy
I look to the Heavens to tell me why
To give me some clue to this mystery.
Now it’s the nineteenth century
Still massive infant mortality
But now some eccentric physician
Is giving the strange explanation
That hand-washing before operations
Will greatly reduce complications
Such as gangrenous inflammations.
Now this really makes no sense
If I shake hands with a gentleman
He surely will not take offense
He knows it will not hurt his hand
Since no inflammation is caused here
It really is quite unclear
Why more problems should appear
For the medical practitioner.
We understand conceptually
What we are able to see.
© Copyright Jerome Raymond Kraus 2005
Game a’plenty
In the wild Serengeti
Elephant, rhinoceros
Endless meat for us
Lush, jungle clearings
Filled with wild careerings
Of quail, heron
And colorful pelican
We scarcely have the room
All these jungle fruits and nuts to consume
Bananas, mangos
Walnuts, pistachios.
But now hunger stalks our land
Famine shows here withered hand
The rains have ceased
Wild animals deceased
Desert lands increased
We thirst without surcease
Our new race
That had begun to thrive
May not survive.
So many die, so many die
They cannot survive their infancy
I look to the Heavens to tell me why
To give me some clue to this mystery.
None can match
The grandeur of Rome
Nor ever finish
Extolling her Name
The city of eternal fame
Her gladiators, her games
Her aqueducts, her baths
Her vaunted cenotaphs
All tribute to nobility’s prime
All part of her nature sublime.
But her population’s gone into decline
Perhaps she became overrefined
The vaunted eagle’s lame
Her circuses gone, the animals tame
To many baths, running water’s to blame
Or maybe the man
Who washed his hands
Hoping to restrain
The Galilean’s campaign.
So many die, So many die
They cannot survive their infancy
I look to the Heavens to tell me why
To give me some clue to this mystery.
Notre Dame, Chartres
Stained glass windows
Luminous vistas
Translucent billows
The High Mediaeval
The Gothic Cathedral
A cultural pinnacle
That’s never been equaled.
But now the Black Death has her day
Darkness, the gnashing of teeth hold sway
The Pope’s been taken to Babylon
Cosily kept at Avignon
Bonfires burning night and day
Help to keep the plague away
Help protect the Holy See
Through most divine Sterility.
So many die, So many die
They cannot survive their infancy
I look to the Heavens to tell me why
To give me some clue to this mystery.
Now it’s the nineteenth century
Still massive infant mortality
But now some eccentric physician
Is giving the strange explanation
That hand-washing before operations
Will greatly reduce complications
Such as gangrenous inflammations.
Now this really makes no sense
If I shake hands with a gentleman
He surely will not take offense
He knows it will not hurt his hand
Since no inflammation is caused here
It really is quite unclear
Why more problems should appear
For the medical practitioner.
We understand conceptually
What we are able to see.
© Copyright Jerome Raymond Kraus 2005
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