WET-WILLOW.
A Song of a Sloppy Season.
(By a Washed-Out Willow-Wielder.)
Air—"Titwillow."
In the dull, damp pavilion a popular "Bat" Sang "Willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!" And I said "Oh! great slogger, pray what are you at, Singing 'Willow, wet-willow, wet-willow'? Is it lowness of average, batsman," I cried; "Or a bad 'brace of ducks' that has lowered your pride?" With a low-muttered swear-word or two he replied, "Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!"
He said "In the mud one can't score, anyhow, Singing willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! The people are raising a deuce of a row, Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! I've been waiting all day in these flannels—they're damp!— The spectators impatiently shout, shriek, and stamp, But a batsman, you see, cannot play with a Gamp, Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!
"Now I feel just as sure as I am that my name Isn't willow, wet-willow, wet-willow, The people will swear that I don't play the game, Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! My spirits are low and my scores are not high, But day after day we've soaked turf and grey sky, And I shan't have a chance till the wickets get dry, Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!!!"
INVALIDED!
Deplorable Result of the Forecast of Aug. 23 on the "D. G." Weather Girl.
Forecast.—Fair, warmer. Warnings.—None issued. Actual Weather.—Raining cats and dogs. Moral.—Wear a mackintosh over your classical costume.