Poem by Norman Rowland Gale

Oiling

     (A Song In and Out of Season.)


  Excuse me, Sweetheart, if I smear,
    With wisdom learnt from ancient teachers,
  Now winter time once more is here,
    This grease upon your lengthy features!
  Behaving thus, your loyal friend
    No whit encourages deception:
  Believe me, Fairest, in the end
    This oil will better your complexion.
      Fairest, believe!

  Did you imagine in the bag
    To sleep the sleep of Rip Van Winkle,
  Removed from sunshine's golden flag
    And duller daylight's smallest twinkle?
  Well have you earned your rest; but yet,
    Although disturbance seem uncivil,
  Unless your cheeks and chin be wet
    With oil, your beauteousness will shrivel.
      Rarest, believe!

  Absorb, that, when for our delight
    The May unpacks its lovely blossom,
  With beaming face, with shoulders bright
    You leave the bag's congenial bosom.
  Then shall the Lover and his Lass
    Walk out toward the pitch together,
  And, glorying in the shaven grass,
    Tackle, with mutual faith, the leather.
        Dearest, absorb!

1. Up at Lords
2. The Church Cricketant
3. On the Spot
4. A Boundary
5. Five Years After

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