A CRICKET BARGAIN.
(Before the match.)
We meet as foes, my James, this summer weather,
But sterner summers saw us twain in league;
Shoulder to shoulder have we stood together
On Q.M.S. fatigue.
So, when (ninth wicket down) to-day I enter
Upon my tenure of the crease and gaze
Nervously at you, having taken centre,
Remember bygone days.
Abate your skill, so shall my nerves grow firmer,
Till driving seems the easiest of jobs,
And passers-by shall pause and haply murmur,
"Golly, can that be HOBBS?"
Do this for me, and you'll discover later
How fame awaits the generous and good;
A few long hops shall win a glory greater
Than ever break-back could.
If for a ball or two you let me smite you,
Running amok with dashing bat and bold,
My Muse shall have instructions to requite you
Even an hundredfold.
You shall she hymn in strains that do not falter,
Proclaim of you for all who run to read:—
"He sacrificed his length on friendship's altar;
He was a pal indeed."