They're gone, but I shall bless them ever,
For good it is to guard a wicket
By sudden wrist and big endeavour.
Don't think I was a lazy lout
Who never worked for days of clover;
I earned my games. Time cries 'Not out!'
But one day he will change to 'Over!'
Well, I can stand behind the netting
And watch the 'Coach' so keen and trusty,
Who likes to see the youngsters hitting,