Thou’dst no delight in Scripture facts,
No joy in Gospels or in Acts:
Thou setted’st small store by such things,
As Apostolic journeyings.
Ah! Bandy, if the Apostle Paul
Had only been a cricket ball!
Queer little dog, I see thee yet,
Panting behind the cricket net:
Thy every fibre quivering
To touch that flying leathery thing,