Shake-The-Disease

The morrs trapped me with their misty, winding arms. My pure Scottish countenance buckled like soft leather as I heard their tender plight. Only I, though. Only I hearing their tales of pity and misery. I being the affluent youth of the nation. The enlightened ones. Part of the wave of those who cared, I cared, I did. The dankness of the country bothered my perpetual consciousness, the taste of sweet meats and fish ripe with the flavours of sanitation still lingering on my trained pallet. I poured over the works of those I loved; those books of the new masters, Locke, Montesuieu, Rousseau. Consuming this new viral passion, my new obsession w