Wiv a second-'and stripped tennis-ball, a little on the lop,
Or even a ha'penny woodeny, an' the chump end of a mop,
And my jacket on a stick for stump, I've 'ad a lot of fun,
And wiv such on Gosling Green, Bill, I fust larned to 'it an' run.
But to-day we did it different. Real stumps was pitched O. K.,
We'd a scoring-sheet, and umpire! We'd a red new ball to play,
As it seemed a sin to slog at, 'cos it took the pooty out;
But I tell yer we forgot that wiv the fust good 'it and shout.
Lanky Steve 'e made that 'it, 'e did. It scooted past long slip,
At forty mile a hour or so. That Steve can make 'em skip.