Vaccination

A Tribute to an almost unknown lady.

VACCINATION'S HEROINE

Sir Edward Jenner, here portrayed

Found that he had made the grade

When first he practiced cow-pox vaccination.

His is a really well-known name,

Praised in the annals of great fame,

One of the heroes of the British nation.

But see this lady down below!

She, too, is someone you should know;

She also played a part in this endeavour.

Who is she in her Turkish dress?

I'm certain you will never guess,

For is she ever given credit? Never!

Now these are Turks. It's a disgrace

That they can rarely claim a place

In all the annals read on vaccination,

For they had practiced the great art

Throughout their history, from the start

And we should be so grateful to their nation

*

Ambassador, Lord Montague,

Sailed with his wife (all this is true)

To represent his King in distant parts.

The Lady Mary did good works

Among the peasantry, the Turks,

And she learned their local customs and their arts.

*

She found that small-pox, which was rife,

Sometimes threatened another life,

Unless they'd come in contact with a case.

The Turks made sure that pus from sores

Entered a healthy person's pores,

Although the process wasn't nice to face.

*

Lady Mary sent the news

To England, giving them her views

That, in this way, much death could be prevented.

Her own young son was treated thus,

Although I'm sure he made a fuss,

And so the modern process was invented.

*

Edward Jenner went ahead

Using cow-pox germs instead,

And, sure enough, the smallpox germ retreated,

And all the British people cried

'Without a doubt he's Britain's pride!'

And down through time this cry has been repeated.

*

But let us not forget to praise

A lady and her learned ways,

Who had to live with no appreciation,

And all the Turks who went before

Who, also, should be praised much more,

And who gave us all the boon of vaccination

*

A quote from a letter written by Lady Mary Wortley Montague

'There is a set of old women, who make it their business to perform the operation, every autumn, in the month of September, when the great heat is abated. People send to one another to know if any of their family has a mind to have the small-pox; they make parties for this purpose, and when they are met (commonly fifteen or sixteen together) the old woman comes with a nut-shell full of the matter of the best sort of small-pox, and asks what vein you please to have opened. She immediately rips open that you offer to her, with a large needle (which gives you no more pain than a common scratch) and puts into the vein as much matter as can lie upon the head of her needle.'