* * * * * *
Well, well—the coming years (if fine)
Shall see us going even stronger;
So pouring out the oil and wine,
Let's sit and drink, a little longer;
Here's to a decent average of ten!
(Yours is the oil. Say when....)
—————
When Morning on the heels of Night
Picks up her shroud at five and after,
The diffident observer might
(Or might not) see, beneath a rafter,
A pensive rodent upside down. Well, that
Is (possibly) a Bat....
In any case I have not sung of that.
A SCRATCH LOT
I. THE CHOOSING OF THE DAY
As soon as I had promised to take an eleven down to Chartleigh I knew that I was in for trouble; but I did not realise how great it would be until I consulted Henry Barton. Henry is a first-class cricketer, and it was my idea that he should do all the batting for us, and such of the bowling as the laws allowed. I had also another idea, and this I explained to Henry.
"As you are aware," I said, "the ideal side contains five good bats, four good bowlers, a wicket-keeper, and Henry Barton."
"Quite so," agreed Henry.