Quinquaginta Annos Natus
Old Bag and Bat, no more together We take the train to Barnes or Tooting; No more I'll gallop for the leather, Nor grumble when the ball keeps shooting: I've fetched her many a handsome clout At Rugby, Nottingham, and Dover; So far Old Time has said 'Not out!' But one day he will change to 'Over!' God bless the grilling days of Cricket! They're gone, but I shall bless them ever, For good it is to guard a wicket By sudden wrist and big endeavour. Don't think I was a lazy lout Who never worked for days of clover; I earned my games. Time cries 'Not out!' But one day he will change to 'Over!' Well, I can stand behind the netting And watch the 'Coach' so keen and trusty, Who likes to see the youngsters hitting, And teaches them to let out lusty! I've had my innings, not a doubt, And stopped a crack or so at Cover; I shall not funk when Time says 'Out!' And all my watching days are over.
Norman Rowland Gale’s other poems:
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