Now some folk get thrilled watching football;
As they say each to his own peculiar taste.
I’ve seen live matches just three times,
Each ticket’s cost was utter waste.
Ninety minutes dash and kick and run
Undoubtedly with plenty of skill
But just not my cup tea old mate
Not the slightest buzz or thrill.
Give me a cloudy misty morning
With a pitch that’s full and green
And a handy little wrist spinner,
Who can make full use of seam
Set me leg square at Headingley
On a Test’s opening day
And the old Aussie enemy
Turning up there to play.
Give me a Boycott and a Truman,
A Botham , a Dexter and a Lock
The back bone of any team to make
Those Aussies stand to take stock.
Please let the light be kind to us
And the weather promise fair
And a ground full of Yorkies
All knowledgeably sitting there.
We’ll fight for every wicket lads,
Make them work for every run,
Use the wicket craftily before
It’s dried out by the sun.
It’s a duel fought to a finish
Leather against bat’s wood
The skill of each protagonist
Making it hard and fast and good
And I’ll sit and scream for England
Sit there and joyfully watch
Every single blessed minute
Of a real cricket match.
For cricket is a game of war
Played strictly to the rules,
And a cricket square’s for heroes,
No room for villeins or fools.
You can keep your ninety minutes pal;
A good Test is hard fought all the way
From very first pitching of stumps
To fifth and very last deciding day.