Ouzatt

OWSZAT The match was slow and boring The runs were far between, And an air of dreamy somnolence Hung o’er the village green. Then out from the pavilion A handsome figure ran. The crowd sat up, paid notice, A loud applause began. The stranger sprinted round the pitch Disrupting all the match, The fielder halted in his stride And dropped an easy catch. The umpire tried to intervene His finger raised in protest, The streaker slipped beneath his guard, It really was no contest. The team stood up and egged him on And cheered as he gained speed, It was a very daring act They one and all agreed. But when his little dangly bits Removed the Home Team’s wicket, A cry went roaring round the ground “Egad Sir – that’s not cricket!”