Black Plague - English perspective fiction

I was minded me own business tilling me fields and whatnot when Ollie the village idiot came pouncing over yelling out this and that nonsense. When he finally made his way over he was all out of breath and I thought his head might just pop off of his bloody shoulders. He says to me,
“Oh aye there George, I uhh ’ave you ’eard about Marty and Gertrude down by the river?”
“Well no,” I says, “the sun’s only been up for n’eary half an hour.”
“Alright mate, you don’t ‘ave to get all uppity on me…I was just going to tell you about ‘ow Marty woke up this morning screaming an’ flailing up a storm. He found Gertrude all bubbled up with boils and all this other nastiness all over her body. She was the color of midnight, and she wasn’t moving a twitch,” he managed to spew between sputtering breaths.
Ollie went running off to spread the news throughout the town, and I sat on me bucket of radishes thinking about poor Marty. He was ...