1919 Influenza Blues - Traditional

    It was nineteen hundred and nineteen
    Hen and women were dying
    With the stuff that the doctor called the flu
    People were dying everywhere
    Death was creepin' all through the air
    And the groans of the rich sure was sad

    Well it was God's almighty plan
    He was judging this old land
    North and south, east and west
    It can be seen
    It killed the rich , killed the poor
    It's gonna kill just a little more
    If you don't turn away from the shame

    Down in Memphis, Tennessee
    The doctor said it soon would be
    In a few days influenza would be controlled
    Doctor sure man he got had
    Sent the doctors all home to bed
    And the nurses all broke out with the same

    [Repeat chorus]

    Influenza is the kind of disease
    Makes you weak down to your knees
    Carries a fever everybody surely dreads
    Packs a pain in every bone
    In a few days mamma you are gone
    To that hole in the ground called your grave

    [Repeat chorus]


    Marco Giunco
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