Waltz of the Germs

Waltz of the Germs

Filth, garbage, and poo,
the city on strike no workers to do.
Puddles like pudding and piles of rat,
fly's all a buzz, a stray alley cat

Eight days to grow the microbes of doom!
New super viruses ready to bloom.
No way to deal with, no needles to stick.
Half of us dead the other half sick!

Back on the job, dumping the cans,
even the water must boil in a pan.
Too late the populous shuffles in turns,
to the end of the end, the waltz of the germs!