Poem by Norman Rowland Gale

Quinquaginta Annos Natus

    Old Bag and Bat, no more together
      We take the train to Barnes or Tooting;
    No more I'll gallop for the leather,
      Nor grumble when the ball keeps shooting:
    I've fetched her many a handsome clout
      At Rugby, Nottingham, and Dover;
    So far Old Time has said 'Not out!'
      But one day he will change to 'Over!'

    God bless the grilling days of Cricket!
      They're gone, but I shall bless them ever,
    For good it is to guard a wicket
      By sudden wrist and big endeavour.
    Don't think I was a lazy lout
      Who never worked for days of clover;
    I earned my games. Time cries 'Not out!'
      But one day he will change to 'Over!'

    Well, I can stand behind the netting
      And watch the 'Coach' so keen and trusty,
    Who likes to see the youngsters hitting,
      And teaches them to let out lusty!
    I've had my innings, not a doubt,
      And stopped a crack or so at Cover;
    I shall not funk when Time says 'Out!'
      And all my watching days are over.

1. Up at Lords
2. The Church Cricketant
3. Five Years After
4. Cricket and Cupid
5. The Tutor's Lament

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