Explore "Cricket Songs" by Norman Gale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
'Tis the last ball of Summer / Left rolling alone; / All his artful companions / Are smitten and gone; / No trace of his kindred, / No shooter is seen / To relate all the glories / Of Briggs and Nepean.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, / To curl on the stumps; / Since thy brothers were slogged so, / Partake of their thumps! / Thus kindly I smack thee / Afar in the heavens, / Where the mates of thy tribe went / For sixes and sevens!