Welcome to this weeks edition of Poetic Beats, with Howard Bond and Davy D, recorded on the 28th August 2017 on Red Kite Radio.
To finish the August theme of Summer we had a different look at the game of Cricket. How would the bats, hanging in the belfry at St.Mary’s Church, Thame, view this peculiar of English sports?
I have added the text version of the poem after the recording, as I know some of you may have been experiencing difficulties listening due to variations with browsers.
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Enjoy and thoughts are always welcome.
Going Batty in Thame
The bats in St Mary’s belfry were feeling rather perturbed,
Across the graves in Church Meadows, a sight had left them disturbed.
Twenty-Two men in Persil white suits were preparing to go into battle,
As crowds of people, armed with cream teas, engaged in Thame tittle -tattle.
Some of the men had very short legs, others were standing in slips,
One in particular, crouched on the green, pads coming up to his hips.
Two older gents covered in sweaters, sported numerous hats,
Every so often a finger was raised, as bowlers screamed at them “howzat.”
In the glaring heat of a Chiltern sun they slogged and bounced and beamed.
Some men went in, some men came out, others lazed in their dreams.
One all-rounder turned into a duck, doing it all for nought.
He only swung his bat the once and walked off face all fraught.
After six hours slog, with a break for their tea, the fight it ended drawn.
And over drinks in Jimmy Figg’s snug, stories were shared into dawn,
Of sixes and fours, leg byes and wides, bowling some maidens over.
Cricket can seem the strangest of sports, enough to leave bats hungover.
© Davy D 2017