1. Nineteen hundred and twenty-nine, men an' women sure was dyin',
From that stuff what de doctors called de flu.
People died ev'rywhere; death was creepin' th'ough de air,
For de groans of de sick sure was sad.

CHORUS: It was God's mighty hand; he is judgin' this old land.
North an' South, East an' West can be seen.
Yes, he killed de rich an' poor, an' he's goin' to kill more,
If you don't turn away from your shame.

2. All the land hope to see, doctors lead us to believe,
A few days the Influenza, we'll control,
But God showed dem His hand, Lord He put de doctor to bed,
And the nurse broke down with de same. CHORUS

3. Influenza is a disease, makes you weak all in your knees,
Carries fever, Cares heartack, you do dread.
Putting pain in their bone, a few days an' you are gone
To a place in de groun' called de grave. CHORUS