By BRIAN STOCKWELL
The day was hot, the pitch was clipped
The kids eager with anticipation
The Kin Kin crew ready to take part
The event spread right across the nation.
A mayoral trio, took centre stage,
Brightly dressed for all to see
Bolton’s Bolters first to run down balls
‘cept Frank – he’d done his knee.
Old Ray the ump, his finger ready
Stood steadfast at the stumps
But what’s this rule? Can’t get out first ball
Enough to give a fella the grumps.
Now Tony’s Tigers, a gendered mob,
Sent in first, were slow to score
It was an hour in, on that barmy arv
Before they managed their first four.
Ten no balls, and wides aplenty
I’m not sure they should’ve bowled her
Last over in the innings took forty balls
Thanks to Sandy’s dodgy shoulder
All out for 68, they said,
Surely with extras, a lot more
Time for Mango John’s fresh lychee treats
And for Ray, a little snore.
The Bolters and the Tigers
Waited patiently on pitch
We can’t start without an umpire
Perhaps he’s got himself a stitch.
The commentators, paused and laughed
When tall Connor strode to wicket
He’s padded up wrong leg they said
These Irish don’t know cricket.
T’was Tony’s team, that were taciturn
When final scores announced
In pinkness stakes they came up trumps
But on tally sheet they were trounced.
Slap on back, a good handshake
Glenn McGrath, announced the winner
Then across the road to General Store
To feast on pink stump dinner.
