Explore "Cricket Songs" by Norman Gale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I'm not a good Cover I freely admit, / And I'm not very handy at Point; / I'm growing inert and no longer exert / The nimble gymnastical joint: / I cannot rejoice when a hurricane cut / Contuses my shin with its crunch; / When fielding to hitters my heart patters-pitters, / But trust me to sparkle at lunch! -- / I radiate freely at lunch.
When Blair puts me Longstop without any pads, / And delivers occasional Wides, / My thumb is askew, and my bosom is blue, / And bruises be-smother my sides! / I cannot rejoice when a bail comes express / Saluting my pate with a punch; / Obesity quivers, there's wringing of withers, / But trust me to sparkle at lunch! -- / I radiate freely at lunch.