Young Alan & Fleas

At lunchtime, Young Alan could play with no one 

The games kids played might be too wild

Too much for Young Alan to play along

He hid away, a different child

Little did the kids know

The sky was patrolled by harmful fleas

Ready to fly and flow

Into the hair of a child with ease

In the far corner of the playground he sprang

Young Alan playing his own calm game

Not being in his own friend group or friend gang

Something that has often been the same

A perfect host was found

He was skipping and jumping in the far

corner of the playground

Which all the fleas found very bizarre

While very deep into his fun own world

An incursion was felt in his hair

First a small itch, that Young Alan tried to furl

out, for it brought him to much despair

Success, a soft landing

The fleas had made it to the lonely boy

Next was to start expanding

To find other children’s heads to ploy

Young Alan’s hair started to burn from the itching

While not watching where he was going

He scampered, wandered and was hectically twitching

As the itching went ongoing

He was a juicy host

The fleas enjoyed camping in his fair hair

Who was itching the most?

The fleas asked each other in their bran-new lair

Young Alan’s itching was driving him insane

However he stopped as soon as he saw

a group of kids playing their very own game

A game that did not look too wild at all

Young Alan knew he wanted to join in

The kids thought the very same way

Why he only realized now, didn’t mind to him

So the kids decide to let Young Alan play

All the fleas where blessed

Alan had brought them fields they could soy

So many heads to invest

The fleas flew to every kids head with joy