Match Report V Warninglid By Sam Ayers
The mighty greys have hit a rut five losses on the trot
Dave’s lost the matrix,Dels on holiday,skips not happy with his lot
Terry’s back he missed last week,kidney stones that passed through penis
But to not inform Biff til Sunday morn a crime considered heinous.
We arrive at the lid and Biff goes out and great he’s won the toss
The vibes are good we know we can win,today wont be a loss
Rob opens up he’s the main man runs in with a skip and a hop
He beats the bat then finds the edge oh Ian not a drop.
It’s been a problem for a while we just cant hold our catches
And as we cricketers all know you have to to win matches
We drop and drop and drop and drop its like being at a rave
But Jerry takes three that’s good to see but not one of them off Dave.
Alan patrols the boundary like a centurion on guard
He chases,fields and throws that cricket ball so hard
Ibu bowls well and so does Ben and Richard he bags three
And from the boundary his father watches, a proud man he must be.
The scoreboard read 184 and now its time for tea
Rob needs to know the batting order is roid Fenton batting three?
So off we go the chase is on we know we cant be tardy
Today’s the day for Boycott and Gooch but often its more Laurel and Hardy.
Twelve off the first over, we are in the game and Jerry’s looking good
It has been know that in the past he’s given me good wood
But wickets fall and we need to score we fall behind the rate
Out comes Dave determined not to bowl through the gate.
A four, a six this could be on we might just not get beat
The rain comes down its heavy its time for a hasty retreat
In the end we aint good enough shake hands a leave the pitch
Seventy odd run short in our chase this game can be a bitch.
Not all is lost its back to base for banter and lots of beer
I’ve dropped one of those funny pills I’m feeling rather queer
The game is forgot we are having fun its been a long hard day
Rob and Ian arm in arm are you two turning gay?
And that’s the thing we all do care but it really doesn’t matter
Oh Sarah’s text its time to go I’m eating fanny batter.