The total bummer of our wasted Test summer….ahem
Does jar well below par no cigar not even a cafe creme
After another dafter dumber and dumber apophthegm
The tedium of this charlatan medium saying carpe diem
Couldn’t be any glummer still will take Baz to the ATM
Laughter him on a whim mending a forlorn torn hem
We pleaded tree needed to go not the Root but stem
Pretending will be happy ending Bazball’s Bethlehem
ECB & Key glib in tandem fib as random as a Lib Dem
English cricket’s viral spiral now coughing up phlegm
The gory gashes from Ashes lashes will still condemn
Then Stokes says that’s all folks was absolute mayhem
Jokes he’ll back in the 2027 eleven it’s us versus them
After hoax new Kiwi bloke evokes masterstrokes a gem
No longer going for broke a stronger bespoke requiem
Will coax the magic unlike the tragic Bazball "La Boheme"
No superhero cloaks as from acorns grow oaks says Flem
I look at you.
Eyes like salted shrimp,
Despicable.
Then, one day.
Just before my breath stops,
The sharp, cold breath of death
Approaches me.
"Chirp, chirp."
Suddenly,
The cricket
Casts a Harry Potter spell,
And to me, it says "Meow,"
Becoming a baby kitten.
"Meow, meow, meow~"
I cry, too.
You cry, too.
Noisy cricket chirps
his loneliness to the world.
Dang! That is a pain!
Oh we do love the game called cricket
That’s played on a grassy turf wicket
But with 10 mills of grass
It requires more ass than class
Just don’t buy a day 3 ticket.
It was a brief Boxing Day Test
One unlike all the rest
Without twists and turns
We’d already retained The Urn
It would only last 2 days at best.
Bradman’s turning in his grave
For the grand old game we couldn’t save
The game we once loved so well
Has turned into a sport they play in hell
What was once a king is now a slave.
It’s with a heavy heart I say unto you
Goodbye, auf wiedersehen and adieu
Test cricket will never be the same
We just witnessed the death of the game
Bazball’s bastard child finally came through.
Jiminy Cricket! Is it so?!
I’m a little boy – I’m Pinocchio!
My limbs are wooden, though!
As are my feet,
My hands and head,
My brain? I think!
Oh, how I wish to truly be
A human boy
And not all wooden like a toy.
But I can try – can I can I!?
I’ll surely tell no lies!
And I’ll be brave – I will, I will!
Oh, the thrill!
To be a real-life, living boy
And not a clunky wooden toy;
Whatever would I give!
O! Jiminy Cricket, lend a hand
And help me be a boy – a boy
Who dares to care,
And cares to understand
The path a wooden boy can take
To be a better man –
i was always a batter
in middle-age, i've become a bowler
to my son, who is now a batter
and i find myself being forced to bowl
in this adults-only cricket match
and for the first time,
i am walking back past the umpire
we exchange words
smiles
titters
and this understanding and linkage is new to me.
i feel absolute joy
a mouse is no good at being a wicket keeper
in a test match playing a game of cricket
or at a costume party as a dark grim reaper
or having an ice cream so tall he can’t lick it
so what then you ask can a mouse do with ease
the obvious answer has to do with some cheese
but it’s quite little known he can juggle with peas
Those BazBull bro’s kills what they said they'd save
Chill pill drills ho’s cheap thrills all traditions waive
Rave it's their fave the oldest format what they crave
Pretend that cricket lite ..might a bright future pave
Defend rascals debacles in Oz really was a close shave
Righto was sh*te say goodnight barmy tsunami wave
Did cave in hosts through thick & thin everything gave
So goodbye to the superfly lie cheerio the final wave
All a slave to T20 noble sort of this global sport a knave
Can't stave off woes depraved way they did play.. behave
Smarmy army hell bent heaven sent Tests to their grave
Do or die got to perform in the eye of the storm
Noise from the boys remember we did deport
Another loss 3 nought a new boss will be sought
The depravity of gravity the reality of this sport
Big Ben’s men finally hold court our Last Resort
Insult beaten twice has the Bazball loon cult lost its spice
Starc’s legend hewn from chumps stumps in clumps strewn
Shredded in the dreaded Ashes vice Last Throw of the Dice
Bogged down in a twit pit will be flogged if we just slog
Stokes spoke about going for broke showing a bit of dog
Aussie boon.. Over the Moon In the Clover lagoon
The Barmy Army will still croon their afternoon tune
As another buffoon’s marooned OZ media swoon
Sucking on their silver spoon our Last Chance Saloon
Last ditch on the pitch must bewitch this is High Noon
It's insane how vain they've been in the Bazball reign
Disdain campaign won't refrain restrain slain again
Won't explain just say we'll double down entertain
In the Bazball larder one ingredient just go harder
Their riposte we lost because we did well over train
Despaired repeat defeat flared cos were too prepared
Inane taking the pis* our abyss Aussie bliss... Bris Bane
Fans in stands & beds with heads in their hands
Bazball disbands shredded into dreaded strands
Boycott this lot don't give a jot no one understands
Piss poor bores ignore turnstile roar in hostile lands
Tanned Aussie class brass band was hardly bland
Yelping Stokes blokes giving them a helping hand
Canned the cool fool Bazball brand must be banned
Ivory tower power zen that Baz Bob and Ben wield
Defective ploys annoys but from noise boys shield
What did planning spanning 4 years actually yield
Smote gloat all the chatting not like 86 and Gatting
Bleak Ben does ken Oz not a den for weak men
Joe standing sentry his century show a footnote
For it does seem this time right quote right team
As a hack with that knack way back once wrote
Can't Bat.......Can't bowl ....Can't field!
Melodious harmony & rapturous rhapsody
Whimsical lyrical lullaby of days gone by
Guile & style all the while with that smile
Laced with grace whispers of greatness
Average Joe the parody they did bestow
There is no substitute for timeless class
Ebb & flow elan master plan can go slow
Talisman pass after media a*se malady farce
Can’t be sniffy snooty Joe was spectacular
To use Oz iffy vernacular "Rooty you beauty"
Bizarre Blighty bonfire at the Gabbatoir
Starc like Slash just thrashes his guitar
The south paw so far the star and Tsar
Our bete noir ..to the Ashes lark au revoir
Blazing humidity & amazing stupidity
In a lather the palaver rather pathetic
Erasing hopes fans gazing splenetic
Starc’s all round pink ball cupidity
Never clever with willow or leather
Wide wild wafts at end of our tether
Snicked off again just a little feather
Helter skeltering in sweltering weather
The Aussies strengths of line & lengths
Our bowlers retort let’s go wide & short
Flopped blame copped catches dropped
No defense or pretence was just nonsense
Not just below par couldn’t wouldn’t spar
Which is why we say ta ra and au revoir
To the Ashes at our bete noir “the Gabbatoir”
Whittled skittled Bazball skint
Belittled lost the glint of Clint
Have a dig make my day big hint
Whatever they say never skinflint
In every stint we will always sprint
Hope dope blueprint trope's mint
The jibber jabber about the Gabba
White knights or ghoulish frights
Stagefright day night under lights
Highlights or more foolish flights
In the ascendancy have that tendency
Heresy or do they deserve clemency
Jealously let them preserve their legacy
Lose again barricaded in the Embassy
Stokes blokes smokes with their high jinx
Ben’s mens sneaky kinks find the chinks
Bazball minx in sync with cheeky winks
Glasses clinks as fans sinks their drinks
Nearly boys ploys bring us back from the brink
What do you think ..will our envoys annoy shrink
Another pity ditty in a sweltering city.. sh**ty stink
Or blink ignore the noise....spurred on by the slurs
Purrs like the Psychedelic Furs..joys of Pretty in Pink?
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