On Playing Poor Cricket

I bowl balls too wide Or leap forward a little, and They call it ‘No!’ Then if I bowl a straighter The dull players love it, lifting to the fence! And the viewers whoop Others whisper, so silly he is! I flush in shame and pledge again Won’t play another day, another game. They hint their last bowler bowl me slow The ball takes ample time, and finally ‘rives Altho’ I Closely watch, and decide an elegant pull It always misses; and dashes to the stupid stump! Hey! You needn’t be ‘noyed over I know, they love me all. Nor need you worry over! For I’m a litterateur, I better shouldn’t sport.