When red-nosed Winter takes the road,
An icicle his walking-stick,
When frost is on the woodman's load,
And
snow is falling fast and thick,
Come, lusty youth and sapless eld,
Let's make a circle round the blaze
And talk of stumps,
Of nasty bumps,
That
flew and came in sunny days.
For Cricket is played again, again,
At freezing time in Hull or Bath;
When summer's done the game's not
gone--
There's Cricket on the Hearth!
Here's Jones from Rugby, Eton Jack,
And Grandpapa who, long ago,
Loved hitting when the Field
was slack,
And crumped the bowling, swift or slow!
No more he's nimble on the green,
But what a history he tells
Of Surrey men
And hits
for ten,
And heaps of most tremendous Swells!
For Cricket is played again, again,
At freezing time in Hull or Bath;
When summer's done
the game's not gone--
There's Cricket on the Hearth!
The girls may call to Hide-and-Seek,
And lovely lasses take the floor;
But
we discuss the Lob and Sneak,
The Canvas, Umpire, Over, Score!
How great a game to fill July,
May, June, and August with delights,
Yet
in the frost
Be never lost,
But stir the blood on nipping nights!
For Cricket is played again, again,
At freezing times in Hull or Bath;
When
summer's done the game's not gone--
There's Cricket on the Hearth!
By Norman Rowland Gale
Cricketer's Prayer
by Pencil Cricket
Old Father Time, I pray to you
That clouds give it a rest,
And that I get a game today,
And
that I play my best.
I pray that my side score quick runs
And our opponents falter,
And if it comes to pass we lose,
I pray the game’s
a belter.
I pray that once I’ve donned my pads
And walked out to the square,
That none of my nicks find a palm,
And that I score my share.
I
pray the wicket's well-prepared,
And that it doesn't stick,
That all my shots find gaps -
And that the outfield's fairly quick.
I pray
the umpire knows his job,
And doesn’t lift his finger.
But if he does I pledge to you:
I’ll not forlornly linger.
I pray the Captain sets
his field
With telepathic skill,
That all his plans work well
And that the catches do not spill.
I pray that if a batsman
Loops a ball
into my lap,
I'll pouch it without too much fuss,
And get a well-earned clap.
And if I’m asked to bowl I pray
The ball leaves my hand
true,
So whether or not wickets come
I’ll know that they’re my due.
Above all, Father Time I pray
When all is said and done,
That we can
all look back and say
“By 'eck, that game was fun!”
