Ye Old Grave Digger

Gravedigger digs, a tired knave;
another death—another grave.
A sigh he casts towards trees and twigs.
A tired knave, gravedigger digs.
His job is never done, you see.
It could be you—it might be me.
The old, infirmed—the meek and young,
You see, his job is never done.
Night ushers in the setting sun,
he toils on, he's just begun.
A pox has swept through town again—
the setting sun, night ushers in.
At home at last in tufted bed
a fever rages in his head.
Gravedigger breathes his final gasp,
in tufted bed—at home at last.
Gravedigger digs, back muscles flex.
A younger man looks down, perplexed.
His father's form, as stiff as twigs—
Back muscles flex, gravedigger digs...
Author's Note:
This is a Swap Quatrain poem. It is a poem where the first line of each stanza is reversed in the fourth line. The rhyme is in couplets. There is no required syllable count or meter. However, I have decided on iambic tetrameter for each line.
A "pox" is any of several viral diseases producing a rash of pimples that become pus-filled and leave pockmarks on healing.
The new, much younger, much stronger gravedigger is the old dead gravedigger's son in the poem.
Hey, it was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.
In the fourteenth century, Europe suffered numerous catastrophes that would go down in history as "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse"; a reference to the book of Revelation in which four great ordeals which Earth had to endure in its final days before judgement. The Black Death stands out as the most dramatic and lifestyle changing event during this century. This was a widespread epidemic of the Bubonic Plague that passed from Asia and through Europe in the mid fourteenth century. The first signs of the Black Plague in Europe were present around the fall of 1347. In the span of three years, the Black Death killed one third of all the people in Europe. This traumatic population change coming into the Late Middle Ages caused great changes in European culture and lifestyle. Infected rats brought abroad aboard ships then released onto European shores are now attributed as the primary cause and contributor to the rapid, wild-fire spread of the disease.
Thanks so much as always for reading my work.
~Dean Kuch
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Comments
hi Dean, you have done this brilliantly, the rhyme scheme is cleverly accomplished and the poem its self speaks volumes about the back death. It also feels like the monotony of the daily grind...each day more of the same
really enjoyed
Lorna xx
Thanks very much for reading and commenting on this, Lorna.
I deeply appreciate your comments and I'm doubly glad that you enjoyed the poem.
Have a fantastic weekend.
~Dean
wow wow wow!!!! what great poem a masterpiece well done
Thanks a million, Greg.
I always love a review that starts off with the word "Wow."
Three "Wows" are even better, lol.
Have a great weekend.
~Dean
What a life for the grave digger,what a story to tell us.Such a poem.
Thank you for reading, Barbara.
Have a grrrrrrrrrrreat weekend.
~Dean Kuch :)
Great imagery it felt as if written in black and white. I thought for a moment down cobbled streets I heard the echos of “bring out your dead”
john
Thanks very much for reading and commenting, John.
I appreciate it as always.
~Dean
This is an outstanding, poem, Dean. It flowed beautifully expressing the pain the gravedigger goes through. Loved it. Hugs! ~Kerry
Thanks, Kerry.
I'm really glad you liked this.
Horror Hugs!
~Dean ;)
A very informative poem
beautifully told and rhymed
thoroughly enjoyed. Thanks Dean.
best wishes
Jjai:))
Thanks a million for reading and commenting, Jjai. I'm very pleased that you enjoyed it.
I hope you have a wonderful weekend.
~Dean :)
Thank you Dean
enjoy your weekend too
Jai:))