The Cricket Was Cruelly Poor!

The sun was high for the sky was clear,
’Twas a paradise out of door,
The weather was grand and ’twas excellent beer,
But the cricket was cruelly poor!

The Denaby batsmen were out of their form,
They forgot they were wanted to score,
It may be the weather was deucedly warm,
But the cricket was cruelly poor!

There was none of the hitting that gives me delight,
Each ball to the boundary for four,
No opening of shoulders to drive all your might,
The cricket was cruelly poor!

The Denaby fellows were first with the bat,
And a duck’s egg preceded by four,
Was all they compiled, and I’m telling you that
The cricket was cruelly poor!

They’d hopes when Jim Ambler went in for his whack
That some hitting at length was in store,
But a “blob” was his total, clean and sleek,
The cricket was cruelly poor!

They’d hopes then that Palmer and Hardy would stand
And run up the total to more,
But there wasn’t a sticker in all of the band,
For the cricket was cruelly poor!

When Rawmarsh went batting it didn’t take long
To rub off the Denaby score,
For the Denaby bowling was nothing like strong,
And the cricket was cruelly poor!

Big hitters like Allott and Lister got set,
And the bowling to pieces they wore,
By hitting out freely and often, and yet
The cricket was cruelly poor!

I wouldn’t for worlds be regarded unkind,
But that game was a bit of a bore,
And if any think others are quite of my mind
The cricket was cruelly poor!

— G. R. Tennyson-Sims