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 !
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