Howzzat

A dash of red Sparkle of cream and white And the battered ball has flown up and away Soaring out of reach of the flying kite Over the stately poplars Beyond applauding stands Mingling with sun and wind and the lazy blue of a smiling sky Lost from sight That ball was lifted some Take a new one The Captain resets his field Has a word with gully and deep cover And whispers to his puzzled pacer A word of encouragement A spot of advice ! Roaring he comes And pitches this one short It rises menacingly To snick the halting yellow edge of fright Dangling bat Red ball in cosy comfort Dead in smiling keeper’s hands Howzzat ?? Oh, quite !