Plague Doctor's Story

In the dark of night, he appears, A figure shrouded in mystery and fear, A mask upon his face, a cloak of black, The Plague Doctor, come to heal and attack. A syringe in his hand, a scalpel at his side, He walks through the shadows, where the sick and dying hide, The stench of death and decay fill the air, As he brings his cure with a dark, solemn stare. His remedies are lethal, his methods unknown, The Plague Doctor, a savior or a fiend unknown, Bringing hope and fear with every remedy in sight, A figure of mystery, a shadow in the night. One night he came upon a man in dire need, Whose skin was pale and whose breath came in ragged wheeze, The Plague Doctor approached, with a calm steady hand, And gave the man a remedy, a cure he had planned. The man convulsed and writhed in agony and pain, As the doctor watched with eyes both sharp and plain, The cure took hold, and the man was saved that night, But the memory of his pain lingered with fright. His remedies are lethal, the methods his own, The Plague Doctor, a savior or a fiend unknown, Bringing hope and fear with every remedy in sight, A figure of mystery, a shadow in the night. A figure of mystery, a shadow in the night. Some say he's a hero, others a menace, But all fear his power, and his presence, For he brings with him a darkness and a dread, A reminder of the plague, and the dead. His remedies are lethal, the methods his own, The Plague Doctor, a savior or a fiend unknown, Bringing hope and fear with every remedy in sight, A figure of mystery, a shadow in the night.