It was nineteen hundred and nineteen; Men 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.
(CHORUS:) Well it was God’s almight 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. This song was originally posted on protestsonglyrics.net (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, you are gone. To that hole in the ground called your grave.