He was just a wee vagabond flea,
Hopping around, crying, “Woe is me.”
Tired, and hungry, with no one to bite,
Crawled into a bottle to rest for the night.
Woke to a sharp glare in his eyes,
Looked around, much to his surprise,
Found he was in a shipwrecked scene.
What, oh what, could this possibly mean?
Just days ago he camped on a rug,
Now appeared to be a seafaring bug.
But the boat around him was ripped to shreds,
With wood in pieces and sails in threads.
He hopped onto what was once a plank
Wondering if all the crewmembers sank.
While Flea was taking this scenery in
He noticed a hooked piece of metal, thin,
Moving toward him at a terrifying pace.
It hooked around the sagging mast base.
The hook yanked and before Flea could flit
The sails looked like the wind had just hit.
Flea was confused, how could this be?
The boat that was sagging could now gain speed.
The hook returned and repaired the deck.
How could a boat arise out of this wreck?
After the hook came a thin little brush,
Sweeping the deck, applying some blush.
Soon the boat was clean, and good as new,
Flea jumped on board, thought I’ll need a crew,
“If I am to be Captain of this fine ship,
I need a deckhand, a firstmate, a cook and a skip!”
Captain Flea had spoken, he forgot out loud,
And before him he noticed a termite had bowed.
“My name is Chip and if it pleases you aught,
I be your firstmate on this beauty, this yacht?”
Captain Flea thought it fitting to then give a speech,
“Lets go and capture ourselves a Fleat!
So fire up the propellers and go full throttle
If we are ever making it out of this bottle!”