An extract from ‘The Ancient Mariner’
by Samuel Taylor P******d c.1997
It was an Ancient Mariner;
He stoppeth one of three
Or four or five or maybe more;
It matters not to me.
For ’twas his skill with bat and ball
That drew crowds by the score,
And never did he disappoint
By settling for a draw.
Dazzling shows of sportsmanship
Here witnessed by the nation;
Despite our hero’s usual state
Of real inebriation.
His blade was keen and rapier—like
Poor bowling swift to maul,
And now and then he’d get some runs
When he could see the ball.
He always ‘walked’ (he cculdn’t run)
No umpire would he cross;
Conscious ever of his pride
To wear the Albatross.
When wickets fell and runs came hard
He never would complain.
The Ancient Mariner always knows
He*s there to entertain.
From village green to hostelries
A Colossus at the brink —
He’d treat opponents with respect
If they’d buy him just one drink.
His overriding sense of fun
Cast doubts on his ability,
And sometimes raised some thoughts about
His mental instability.
He played the game for its own dear sake;
To cheat was the final sin.
And evermore it shall be played
For fun, whoe’er shall win.
It’s still ON —- yaroo!