The Tyger

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,
All turned out in sparkling white,
What immortal hand or eye,
Can clutch the cherry from the sky?

In what distant park or ground,
Can the Tyger roar be found?
On what wings dare he aspire,
Dodge the beamer, seize the fire?

What technique and bowling art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when the heart began to beat,
Watch the ball and move the feet!

What the sidescreen, What the sun,
In for twelve balls, out for one,
Slipping jockstraps, dodgy grips,
Eyesight failing, out the slips!

When the stars threw down their spears,
Winchmore Hill awash with tears,
Did the Tygers emerge from heaven?
Walthamstow Horizontal or West eleven?

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,
All turned out in sparkling white,
And so to Porto, dont forget,
Formal dinner, tie and … Jacket !

Frederick Augustus Wright-Herbert
(With more than passing thanks to William Blake and Dave Laing)
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: