Old Timer Rhymer Poet Rhyme

Does the Grade Cricketer need a Bard?

Ex pat Pom loving aplomb & many a flickering F bomb of the OG.. GC at the G 

No spin larking bickering barking larrikins clearly hear the din of fans chagrin

The culprits the ex players pundits in their pampered and champered pulpits


I want baggie green spleen to be vent outside the oh so privileged pro tent

Your spectacular curvy vernacular is the quip fillip in times so topsy turvy 

Cricket’s pervy badgers nervy starved of nuanced narratives..like Test scurvy


The game increasingly nihilistic your ballistic bants & rants..holistic chants     

Sycophantic semantic antic relishing & cherishing your loquacity, audacity..

Bodacity & sagacity…got them by the gizzards with your verbal blizzards.. 

Rapacity of skits & gambits..tenacity of wits...our own proverbial Oz Wizards..


Coz boys your ploys are the everyman not fancy dan talisman of fan elan….

Joy envoys of odd bod sod the cricketing Gods run roughshod pod masterplan..

Your reffing gift wrapped in effing & jeffing.. a bucolic vitriolic frolic & tonic!


No fibs his nibs is loving the cut of your jibs….this old timer rhymer pondered 

Wondered does cricket's ultimate bastard..The GC.. like Lord Kitchener.. need me..

Saluting a highfalutin cultural calling card..  your own Bard as two become three?

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