Forlorn,
I sit and mourn
What could have been,
From the boundary, trying not to be seen.

Misanthropic.
A tiny nick
Has snuffed out my life,
Success always resting on the edge of a knife.

Melancholy,
I sit here pondering, sorry.
Should be out there fighting.
Every strike sounding like lighting.

Company,
I rushed too hurriedly,
Spurned our honour
And became connon fodder,

Because I got the plan wrong,
Sung the wrong song,
Overstretched,
Regret etched

Across my face,
Death dressed in lace,
Struggling on a sticky wicket,
I guess that is just cricket.

As one who's born in England
There is something I don't know
Exactly what is "cricket" ?
Please tell me so I'll go

Both teams dress in white
The bowler doesn't bowl
He doesn't bend his arm to throw
I don't understand the goal

The ball goes out it scores six runs
But it must go in the air
The ball rolls out it scores four more
Is this really fair?

The games can last for days and days
But what confuses me
Is that every game at four o'clock
The players stop for tea

A game is called a test
But is every test a game
some may last for just one day
The length is not the same

There's a throw they call a googly
I know what that means
I got hit there playing hockey
It ***** your breath so you can't scream

There's wickets and there's bails
mid slips, and those silly stumps
I'm sure that if it confuses me
What does it do to umps?

The biggest question that I have
Besides, what's a sticky wicket?
Is of all the players on the field
Which one of them's the cricket?