MADAME LA GRIPPE
MADAME LA GRIPPE
Where the seas meet the land, and the land quits the seas,
The universe shakes with a terrible sneeze,
The Czar in his palace, the serf in his hut,
Explode all alike when the nostril is shut,
The saint’s holy person is no more exempt
Than the sinner whom Satan refuses to tempt.
The pest of the air takes a world-waking trip,
And its banners are blazoned; “Beware of La Grippe.”
We heard of it first where Peter the Great
Made the marsh of the Neva the heart of his State.
It crumpled the Cossack, and then, in the morn,
Crossed the Balkan and captured the fair Golden Horn.
The Sultan dropped down with a bigness of head
That made his whole harem afraid of the dead,
For a microbic Skobeleff rushed with a skip
And held old Byzantium fast in his grip.
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