Here's the tale of Alfred Dobbs,
A pleasant little chap.
Who despite his parents' warnings,
Would refuse to wear a cap.

“You'll catch your death, you silly thing”,
His mum had always said.
“Don't ever dare go out and play,
Without a hat upon your head”.

But Alf thought he knew better,
Like most kids about his age.
And just ignored his caring mum,
Who would boil with concerned rage.

One chilly winter's morning,
Alf, again without his hat.
Whilst running ‘round the garden,
Tripped over Gus, the family cat.

Alfred, landing on his head,
Was instantly knocked out.
And it wasn't until lunchtime,
That he woke and tried to shout.

But the cold had stolen Alfie's voice,
He couldn't make a sound.
And every bone was aching,
So he lay still on the ground.

His cooling body was still quite warm,
But not his exposed head.
Laid in the cold he dearly wished,
He’d done as mum and dad had said.

Alf's mum was busy in the house,
And so it wasn't until noon.
That she noticed he was missing,
And would find him garden strewn.

So he lay there feeling paralysed,
And hoped she'd quick arrive.
Thinking if still there when late,
He might not be alive.

Thankfully, his mum soon came,
And found poor Alfred sprawled.
She noticed he was minus hat,
So at him yelled and bawled.

Alf lay dumb and motionless,
And his mum became quite worried.
She picked him up to carry,
And indoors promptly hurried.

Recumbent on the warm settee,
Poor Alfred looked quite blue.
“Oh Alfie what's the matter.
What on earth son did you do?”

She rang the family doctor,
Who was there within the hour.
And with investigative instruments,
He did the best within his power.

“What's wrong?”, asked Alfred's stricken mum,
“Has he broken any bones?”
“I'll go and ring an ambulance,
If he needs one Doctor Jones?”

“Yes my dear, I'm afraid he does,
But not that something's broken.
How did he get into this state,
Did he tell you; has he spoken?'

“I think he must have tripped and fallen,
Whilst playing out this morning.”
“Well, I sense he's been there quite some time,
So let me give a timely warning.”

“Next when Alfie's playing out,
Please make sure he wears a hat.
The head to cold is vulnerable,
As it lacks protective fat.”

“I've told him twenty-thousand times,”
Alfie's mum said through her crying.
“I've pleaded with him every day,
I'm exhausted now with trying.”

“He has bad hypothermia,
And his body is very cold.
If he doesn't quickly learn by this,
Then he'll not live to be old.”

Three days he spent in hospital,
Whilst steadily recovering.
The truth of all the warnings,
He was regretfully discovering.

Home at last to convalesce,
And recover from the flu.
With a week of rest and loving care,
Our Alfred felt all good as new.

So now when the weather is damp or cold,
Remembering his mishap.
Alf wraps up very carefully,
And he always wears his cap!