The season is coming, when merrily humming,
Again to the pleasant Domain we will stray,
With our bats and our wickets, as merry as crickets,
Together our cricketing matches to play.
The ground they are rolling, and soon to the bowling
Of Caffyn or Lawrence we’ll gallantly play;
Tipping and slashing, and cutting and dashing,
For a run when the ball we send spinning away.
Chaffing and laughing, the cool beer quaffing
Under the tent as we watch the field play;
Cheering and roaring, as rapidly scoring,
Our men at the wickets are slashing away.
Pluckily fielding, no chance ever yielding,
Stopping each ball let it come as it may;
Catching, or running like deer when a stunning
Hit sends a ” three,” or a ” fourer ” away.
Puffing and blowing, howe’er the game’s going,
Every man knowing his best he must play;
As brothers contending, and as brothers ending,
N0 matter who wins, or who loses the day.
The season is coming, when merrily humming-,
Once more our cricketing matches we’ll play,
“With .our bats and our wickets, as merry ail crickets,
Hurrah for our opening cricketing day.