I’ll take you to a village field
Where a blackbird sings nearby.
The sun shines down from high above
From a summer’s cloudless sky.
You’ll not find farmers working here,
Nor a show of summer flowers,
For it’s here, on summer days like this,
Men spend their leisure hours.
Dressed all in white, two gallant teams,
Hold battle on a pitch.
They hope their scores will proudly rise
With neither hitch nor glitch.
Here comes the bowler: Watch this man:
His mind’s fixed on that wicket,
Whilst a man with bat, watches the ball -
All in the name of cricket.
Ball hits the bat, then sails through space,
Whilst the batsman starts to run.
All eyes are now fixed on that ball
With hopes the game is won.
The cricket match eventually ends –
The winning team feel great –
And refreshments now are on the cards
With little time to wait.
The sun shines down, they sip their tea;
Their game’s quite at its end,
But the winners will be back next week
Their title to defend.
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