We’re Gonna Win the Ashes!

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We’ve got Stokes and Woakes

And lots of other blokes

We’ve got the ‘Beard that’s Feared’

And a bowling attack geared

To rip up your stumps

And leave you in the dumps

We’ve got hundreds galore

And Cook still wanting more

We’ve got Root in charge

And we’re gonna win large

We’ve got Jennings and Ballance

And bucket loads of talent

We’ve got Anderson and Broad

And runs on the board

We’ve got Finn to run in

And matches to win

We’ve got Bairstow to keep wicket

Whilst we’re beating you at cricket

We’ve got Rashid to deceive

And a nation that believes

We’re gonna win the Ashes

Got no time for Big Bashes

We’ll have the Ozzies under the cosh

It’s gonna be a whitewash

We’re gonna have our fill

We’re gonna win five-nil, five-nil, five-nil!

The Deer and the Wolves

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You’re a batsman, like a deer

Isolated from the herd

Fielders, like a pack of wolves

Lick their lips at your wounds

Bowler, the alpha male

On the prowl, a scowl

Staring you down

The wolves, patient

Eyes on their prey

In pursuit, the whole day

No escape

They will get you

Termination

A matter of time

A fellow deer

Picked off by the pack

Another one dissected

Sent back

Witness your fellow fallows fall

Stave off uncertain certainty

Cries, you’re down

Weapons on the ground

The wolves howl

The battle at a close

P’Tang Yang Kipperbang!

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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!