It Ain't Cricket
Here in the land of India
'Neath Himalyas' depthless snow
I listen to the cricketers
Upon the pitch below.
Blue is dueling Red now,
And many a fevered shout
Rises to the heavens
As batsmen show their clout.
The bowler's run - a mighty pitch
Bites dust near wickets three.
The dusky air doth tremble
As the batsman swings with glee.
High in the air he slices it,
An eliptic gliding arc.
A thousand eyes now track it
As it races from the park.
But what it is they cheer about
And why they're glad or glum
Is frankly quite beyond me
For I'm a baseball bum.
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