Bacteria

There once were some learned M.D.'s,
Who captured some germs of disease,
    And infected a train
    Which, without causing pain,
Allowed one to catch it with ease.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXI. Love And Matrimony.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. DLXVIII. Natural History.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCLXXXIII. Lullabies.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCLXIII. Gaffers And Gammers.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

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The Germ

I took to khaki at a word,
And fashioned dreams of wonder.
I rode the great sea like a bird,
Chock full of blood and thunder.
I saw myself upon the field
Of battle, framed in glory,
Compelling stubborn foes to yield
As captives to my sword and shield,
This is another story.

We sat about in sun and sand,
We broke old Cairo's images,
Met here and there a swarthy band
In little, friendly scrimmages,
And here it is I start to kid
No Moslem born can hit me.
The Germ then that had long laid hid
Came out of Pharaoh's pyramid,
And covertly he bit me.

For some few days I wore an air
Of pensive introspection,
And then I curled down anywhere.
They whispered of infection,
And hoist me on two sticks as though
I bore the leper'...

Edward

The Microbe

The Microbe is so very small
You cannot make him out at all,
But many sanguine people hope
To see him through a microscope.
His jointed tongue that lies beneath
A hundred curious rows of teeth;
His seven tufted tails with lots
Of lovely pink and purple spots,
On each of which a pattern stands,
Composed of forty separate bands;
His eyebrows of a tender green;
All these have never yet been seen,
But Scientists, who ought to know,
Assure us that they must be so....
Oh! let us never, never doubt
What nobody is sure about!

Hilaire Belloc

Some Little Bug

In these days of indigestion
It is oftentimes a question
    As to what to eat and what to leave alone;
For each microbe and bacillus
Has a different way to kill us,
    And in time they always claim us for their own.
There are germs of every kind
In any food that you can find
    In the market or upon the bill of fare.
Drinking water's just as risky
As the so-called deadly whiskey,
    And it's often a mistake to breathe the air.

Some little bug is going to find you some day,
Some little bug will creep behind you some day,
    Then he'll send for his bug friends
    And all your earthly trouble ends;
Some little bug is going to find you some day.

The inviting green cucumber
Gets most everybody's number,
    While the green corn has ...

John Leroy Atwell

Strictly Germ-Proof

The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup
Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gamboled up;
They looked upon the Creature with a loathing undisguised;
It wasn't Disinfected and it wasn't Sterilized.

They said it was a Microbe and a Hotbed of Disease;
They steamed it in a vapor of a thousand-odd degrees;
They froze it in a freezer that was cold as Banished Hope
And washed it in permanganate with carbolated soap.

In sulphureted hydrogen they steeped its wiggly ears;
They trimmed its frisky whiskers with a pair of hard-boiled shears;
They donned their rubber mittens and they took it by the hand
And 'lected it a member of the Fumigated Band.

There's not a Micrococcus in the garden where they play;
They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day;
An...

Arthur Guiterman

Beer

A man to whom illness was chronic,
When told that he needed a tonic,
    Said, "O Doctor dear,
    Won't you please make it beer?"
"No, no," said the Doc., "that's Teutonic."

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCLXVI. Gaffers And Gammers.

        [The first two lines of the following are the same with those of a song in D'Urfey's 'Pills to Purge Melancholy,' vol. v, p. 13.]

    There was an old woman
        Lived under a hill,
    She put a mouse in a bag,
        And sent it to mill;

    The miller declar'd
        By the point of his knife,
    He never took toll
        Of a mouse in his life.

Unknown