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Poem by Norman Rowland Gale


Lay On


    One wicket to fall and a round fifty runs
                Waited for still:
    As well to imagine that twice twenty tuns
                Go to a jill!
    O Jones, be contained if you worship your school,
                Block her and snick;
    But punch her to leg if she's handy; keep cool;
                Lay it on thick!

    She comes up full pitch now and then, so look out;
                Dust her along!
    And go like a hare if you notice me shout--
                Wait for the song!
    Tom Emmett will chaff ev'ry chap in the team--
                Jolly old Brick!--
    If we funk like young misses of sugar and cream;
                Lay it on thick!

    Go big at those lobs like a lusty old Jones,
                Give it 'em hot!
    They break; get in front with your bundle of bones,
                Leg is the spot!
    Take guard. Oh, well banged! There's a four to begin,
                See, they are sick!
    Another! Another! we're going to win--
                Lay it on thick!



Norman Rowland Gale


Norman Rowland Gale's other poems:
  1. Out
  2. Star-Gazing
  3. A Wigging
  4. Cricket and Cupid
  5. Quinquaginta Annos Natus


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