I struck the ball in the dark, off the bowling of Mitchell Starc.
I hit the ball over the rope, evading the dive of Shai Hope.
I deflected the ball with an edge so fine, off the bowling of Dale Steyn.
I glanced the ball for four, evading the gloves of PJ Moor.
I played a shot that was just stellar, out of reach of Niroshan Dickwella.
I stole a run like a thief, off the bowling of Steve O’Keefe.
I belted the ball out of the ground, off the bowling of Toby Roland-Jones, such a sweet shot oh what a sound, all the way to The Road of Bones.
I searched the internet for batting tips, so looked at the faq, flicked the ball off my hips, past the outstretched Misbah-ul-Haq.
I defended the ball, then ran a single, straight past my partner, no time to mingle.
I ran three at Adelaide, off the bowling of Tony Dodemaide.
I avoided a bouncer from Brett Lee, on a sunday morning at the SCG.
I pulverised the bowling at the WACA, off the ball came the lacquer.
I scored a double century at Perth, took me a week or two to come back to Earth.
My stumps were shattered, oh what a pain, clean bowled all that mattered, bloody Mark Alleyne!
Used to watch Serie A on Channel 4, lots of goals by Beppe Signori, went to New Zealand on tour, got clean bowled by Daniel Vettori.
I punched the ball with lots of power, off the bowling of Grant Flower.
I swatted the ball with a bang, off the bowling of Bryan Strang.
I bowled the ball, it was a ripper, did for the off-stump of Trevor Gripper.
Running in week after week, ever so dependable was Heath Streak.
A crocodile under the bed, it wasn’t so little, eight foot long they said, guest of Guy Whittall.
The batsman was far too ponderous, nicked one behind at The Wanderers.
Batting at Scarborough, put the ball in the sea, Ian Salisbury’s leg-spin, no mystery to me.
Woke from my slumber, when I received a beamer from Carl Mumba.
You need a wicket, if you want to play cricket!