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!”
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