And all deliveries lose their wonted fire,
When bats seem broader than the broad barn-door—
This is the end of every man’s desire!
The burden of free hitting; slog away,
Here shalt thou make a five, and there a four.
And then thy heart unto thy heart shall say
That thou art in for an exceeding score;
Yea, the loud Ring, applauding thee shall roar.
And thou to rival Hornby shalt aspire,
And lo! the Umpire gives thee “leg before.”