Roses blister on his skin
Fill him full of lies, withered posies [bad word] in his hand
Destroy the lucky amulet, and [bad word] us with the flies, read the last rites
"Blessed be the people" is a mockery, from clergy which approves the kiss of death
Ring-a-ring the children sing, the black plague bells are heralding
The funeral pyre, for beggar, priest and king

No, no, no - nobility's no sanctuary
Flee, flee, flee - the rat's bubonic flea
But the scourge is everywhere, England weeps in her despair
And in misty eyes a cure cannot be seen

Raging pox and pestilence are dripping with blood
The slavery black dog roams everywhere
Smite the one he bites, and drags the ones he misses down, the worst is yet [bad word] 
As 1665 turns into 1666, a dread lead to none before grips every man
As the prince of darkness sets aloose his wicked bag of tricks

"This plague and the impending conflagrations are signs from God
And thus we, the flagellants, shall inflict punishment
Upon our bodily flesh and other earthly manifestations
To atone for the sins of the world"

Satan has sent out a plot as [bad word] as it was grand,
To raze away the English capital
As the final time began, he brought the flames to make his stand
And thirteen times the baker shook his hand
In the hellish heat of his retreat, the devil did a spy
The souls of London town were ripe for taking
From the depth of his disguise, through the black slits of his eyes
The fallen angel watched the city die

Fire, fire, fire - is burning London town
Try, try, try - to beat flames down
But the heat is too intense, and its thirst cannot be quenched
And London's burning to the ground

Ring-a-ring o'roses, a pocket full o'posies,
A-tishoo! A-tishoo! - we all fall down