Tag Archives: #Flea

Why did the dragonfly flee?

The dragonfly, whose name was Flo,

had an itch, she scratched it so,

it was a flea, ‘It’ll have to go!’

But a tiny flea is hard to find,

it’s always, always upon your mind;

and with great big claws,

and fiery breath,

Flo burnt and scratched herself to death.


‘But, that’s so sad!’ I hear you cry,

‘Why did poor Flo have to die?’

Truth be told, she never existed,

my creative writing a creature enlisted –

tales are told of made up things,

fleas with kites, dragonflies with swings

and in other far off made-up stories,

upon different days,

Flo and the flea,

just parted ways.


And a point you make

upon my tale:

‘It was a dragonfly,

and not a dragon,

have you been sipping from the flagon,

swigging too much ale?’

‘You caught me out!’

I drunkenly reply,

‘But, when was the last time you saw a dragon fly,

perhaps fleas are the reason why.’

The Butterfly

The Butterfly

The butterfly did flee,

it seems he was afraid of me

he flew so fast, I barely saw him go

and where he goes I do not know.

An admiral from the Russian Navy

once stopped a while and spoke with me,

“Do you prefer the butterfly, or the flea?”

I told him it was all the same to me,

whether it be,

the flutter of a butterfly

the braying of a flea,

or the saying that,

‘whatever a bee will be… will be.’

The admiral smiled,

and looked at me,

handed me his cap

in humility,

and now, I am the ruler of the Tsar’s navy!

And the Onion Rings a Bell

And the onion rings a bell.

And the onion rings a bell.

Annabelle Lee

married a flea

They both lived happily together.

Annabelle was a witch

Had a seven-year itch

and sold unlucky heather.

The flea was here,

the flea was there;

he often sat on a wicker chair

One day,

a knight and his squire

rode on into the town.

The knight was young,

the squire old;

they had tarnished armour,

be they never so bold.

Annabelle Lee

abandoned her flea,

and ran off with Sir Cuthbert

(for that was the knight’s name)

the squire thus left,

he felt bereft,

and then a tickling in his right ear.

The flea said, “Squire?

Are you for hire?

I need a lift to the town.”

The squire replied,

“I’ll give you a ride,

to fetch yon bride,

that with Sir Cuthbert has recently flown,

where is his pride?”

The flea and the squire

set off at once,

through the winds, the rain, the snow,

as fast as their eight legs would go;

they travelled up hill,

and travelled down dale,

their task, it did seem,

was likely to fail;

as they’d set off in completely the wrong direction.

but, after a little course correction,

they did reach the town,

where the squire fell down

in a tiredness from all of his travels;

but the flea was fresh,

the flea was fit,

the flea did seek where Annabelle

and Sir Cuthbert did Sit,

and he challenged the knight to a duel;

the noble knight laughed

to see such a one

and said, “You’re a fool,

if you think you’re a match for a knight!”

the flea Felt ire at his laughter,

determined to win at all costs;

sharpened his sword,

and without warning word

did fling himself at the knight’s chest;

the knight parried once,

then parried he twice,

the flea was much stronger than thought;

the battle was fought,

the flea did win;

and Sir Cuthbert the knight,

he had to give in,

and return Annabelle to her home,

never more would Annabelle roam.

And the onion rings another bell.

“Why, Maranar, Why?”

“Why, Maranar, Why?”

Why, Maranar, why?

Won’t you run away with me?

Did you have to be a dog?

I am just a flea –

But, we…

could be…

so, ha… ppy!

Why, Maranar, why?

won’t you run away with me?