Hunting that flea

IN the 30s the flea was rampant,

In your bed or on your skin.

It didn’t care who it attacked,

Or if you were fat or thin.

It gave your skin a nasty bite,

A red blotch soon appeared.

It didn’t last very long,

As soon as it disappeared.

It took some time to catch the flea,

For they jumped all over the place.

I’m sure those we didn’t catch

Laughed in our ruddy face.

Laying in your little bed at night,

Bedclothes all adrift.

You would feel a nip on your backside,

It certainly made you shift.

Put on the light, the hunt was on,

We will catch them without fail.

And squash the ruddy thing,

Between thumb and fingernail.

Their friends arrive looking for revenge,

You’re tired, you beg and plea,

For someone to invent an aerosol,

To kill that ruddy flea.

Ted Bage,

Owton Manor Lane,


To contribute your MEMORY LANE memories, write to Tom Collins, Hartlepool Mail, New Clarence House, Wesley Square, Hartlepool TS24 8BX or by email newsdesk