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.
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