Dedicated to the big Canuck himself, Willy Whitehouse.
Pare' pronounced Parry is short for Paremoremo. A small village community in New Zealand.
The fire was lit before we played and many a big boast was made but that dumb Canuck looked afraid and skites soon turned to shames. Facin’ Skeet at the PCG he was scared and blind as can be cos you can’t hit what you can’t see and down he went in flames But like the Phoenix he got up and from his beer had one more sup wishin’ like hell he had a cup or box to protect him. But the very next ball he’d face was a yorker at his shoelace honin’ in at frightenin’ pace and things were lookin’ grim. Oh see the boy from Kitimat jumpin’ up and down like a cat on a hot tin roof with his bat like a hack tailender. Before he retire hurt or worse and need a doctor or a nurse I gave him one more fu*kin’ burst and asked “you surrender?” For whether clean bowled or an edge he’d lose it and begin to sledge or unfair dismissal allege as his tremblin’ knees shook. I knew he was hurtin’ real bad and runnin’ his mouth all he had so vowed the boy from Trinidad “I’ll fix this big Canuck”. As the "Ashes" in us did burn soon at the crease it was my turn and for him a lesson to learn like in the Rangi nets. You don't bowl to Skeet in the slot or give him time to play a shot when he shouts "gimme all you got" and smashes all he gets. As the cricket lesson went on it was like bowlin' to "The Don" and with any false hope all gone to cheap shots he did stoop. It's no place for the faint hearted but I ended what he started when the next ball I high carted over the chicken coop. The poor bastard all battle scarred tried to bury me the tryhard but learned why in Trestrail's backyard I’m called “The Gravedigger”. Swingin’ my bat like a broadsword he was outplayed and overawed but a crushin’ loss he ignored and just couldn’t figure. It was like the boasts of our youth but you don't have to be a sleuth to discern bullsh*t from the truth but boy ain’t it funny. And so still as back in the day until stumps or bad light stopped play lives the legend of Skeet, hooray and his Canuck bunny! Written: March 2014
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