Will I go INSANE,
If I try yet AGAIN,
  as England FAIL,
  with batting FRAIL,
I just hate Dale STEYN.

Dale bowled ever so well,
I wish he'd go to hell,
  I want to punch his face,
  but we are the disgrace,
It's left me with a bad smell.

A bright lad called Alistair Cook
Did enjoy the occasional book,
     He went out to bat,
     NO - don't play at that,
They did him; line, sinker and hook.

On him I'd bet my whole house,
More like a lion than a mouse,
     He bats with aplomb,
     Both dainty and strong,
It can only be Andrew Strauss.

From the pavilion did Jonathan Trott,
Nervous and anxious he is not,
     He'll be there for a while,
     All England will smile,
And South Africa know he is hot.

Next in is the feisty KP,
His batting, the top of the tree,
     Sixes so great,
     They should be worth eight,
Now just stay IN for a hundred or three!

A chap from ooop north who is good,
Goes by the name of Paul Collingwood,
     Gritty and tough,
     We just can't get enough,
Fight as hard as him, we all should.

No more will the fear he smell,
He's been down to the gym as well,
     His batting is slick,
     Number six does the trick,
The crowd cheers for Ian Bell.

Swinging his bat, it's Matt Prior,
Born with iron grit, steel and fire,
     If he holds each catch,
     We'll win the match,
And his ranking will go much higher.

Our spinner is next, Mr Swann,
His bowling is coming on strong,
     His batting is great,
     Which the opposition hate,
Not to pick him much sooner was wrong.

Our tall quickie is young Stuart Broad,
His bat is a rapier like sword,
     He can oft' bowl too short,
     Yet the batters get caught,
And Of wicket-taking we never are bored.

James Anderson is our king of swing,
Late movement his favourite thing,
     Please bowl nice and full,
     Offer nothing to pull,
And just hear those stumps go 'ping'.

Graeme Onions comes in at long last,
Cannot bat but, he can bowl fast,
     He makes them play,
     While others may stray,
Durham long-hops a thing of the past.

That chap we'd all forgotten
You know, with temper rotten
  Full of fire and flair
  Masses of curly hair
It's furious Ryan Sidebottom.

Graeme Smith is great
If you want someone to hate
  There was a nick
  the lying *****
His presense again does grate

That man has no **** SKILL
And him I'd like to ****
  His ears not SHARPER
  ****** Darly HARPER
I know I need a PILL

So now we have captain Cook
OK, he might be worth a look
  But Andrew Strauss
  Back in his house
To my very core I am shook

In the test team new names do pop
With Carberry right at the top
  All rounders not thin
  With Tredwell for spin
And Wright giving a biff and a bop

Shahzard is there for swing
Of reverse he can be king
  And if Prior gets vexed
  Steve Davies comes next
Pardon me if start to sing.

Onto the **** One-Day side
This I simply cannot abide
  Or believe what I read
  Cook is now made to lead
At table bottom we will reside.

Some say it should go burn in hell
That the money leaves a really bad smell
  But hit and giggle
  Or **** and piddle
It's here to stay the IPL.

From countries far and wide
Come players with heaps of pride
  But if they fail
  You'll hear them wail
For there is not anywhere to hide

The cheques books come out
The auctioneers will shout
  Some Players get bought
  Some others get naught
The IPL now has such clout

The turn-styles are all in clamour
The Batsmen are using the hammer
  They go for the big six
  Bowlers try their new tricks
So cricket is married to glamour

Should cricket become this glam
When the ball is met with a blam
  hit way in the air
  didn't see you there
Sorry about that Maam!

Now Smithy was as angry as poo
He said Mickey, "Oi, Listen, must you!
  Come here for a meeting
  It'll be only fleeting
But be there by a quarter to two."

As loud as he dared
With nostrils all flared
  Smith ranted and raved
  Like he was depraved
No wonder Mickey was scared

He began with a deep fierce roar
And huffed like a bear that was sore
  "It's not easy to say
I can't stand things this way
I can't take it like this any more."

Smith blew his red nose on his sleeve
Then said "You must take now your leave
  You've driven me crazy
  No, I'm not being lazy
I need some more me-time to grieve."

"I know that our feelings were strong
I am sorry that you must now be gone
  I'll always love you
  You held my hand in the loo
It's not that you did anything wrong."

Now who should replace him within?
Our choices are looking too thin.
   I do know a man...
  This could be a plan...
A Zimbabwean that has a big chin.

Now the panel has been sacked
The whole system looks cracked
  Who is next their line?
  Graeme Smith would be fine..
The captain has not yet been whacked.

But what more can we say?
Madness now leads the way.
  Since Onions' not out
  South Africa have doubt
'bout all that's 'tween night and the day.

We do not need that silly old race
To see who gets far into space
  We can get more
  Both iron and ore
If we inhabit just one more place.