We meet as foes, my James, this summer weather,
But sterner summers saw us twain in league;
Shoulder to shoulder have we stood together
On Q.M.S. fatigue.
So, when (ninth wicket down) to-day I enter
Upon my tenure of the crease and gaze
Nervously at you, having taken centre,
Remember bygone days.
Abate your skill, so shall my nerves grow firmer,
Till driving seems the easiest of jobs,