Surrey wants you--come you back! England wants you--homeward tack! Say Good-bye to Capetown sky, you Best of Georges, come you back! May warmer heavens make you whole For Surrey! How men would roar to see you bowl For Surrey! Nurs'd and help'd and mended, Truly kept and tended, Come and be our splendid George! Shuter wants you home again! England wants you--cross the Main! Say Good-bye to Capetown sky, you George of Georges, come again! BOMBASTES In dazzling pads Bombastes went To give the bowling Beans; He stalked along in sweet content, Triumphant in his 'teens. He launched his muscle at a Slow, But heard the timber clink; Bombastes homeward sped and said, 'Whatever do you think? Bowled by a beastly lob, confound it! Jumped in too far and hit all round it! Easy enough to now expound it-- Bowled by a beastly lob!' At luncheon-time Bombastes swore, By oaths not one, nor twain, That he would make the fielders sore When he went in again! A second time the hero strode With Allsopp in his head; Bombastes missed the first; he cursed Consumedly, and said-- 'Bowled by a beastly lob, confound it! Jumped in too far and hit all round it! Easy enough to now expound it-- Bowled by a beastly lob!' May ev'ry braggart talking big Secure the Double Duck! By Roman grape and Grecian fig I wish him dirty luck! May underhanded artfulness Precipitate his end, His only comfort be, at tea, To moan before a friend-- 'Bowled by a beastly lob, confound it! Jumped in too far and hit all round it! Easy enough to now expound it-- Bowled by a beastly lob!' ENGLAND _V._ AUSTRALIA The Champion Grace to the match has gone, In the British ranks you'll find him, His magic bat he has girded on, And his pads are slung behind him! 'Ground of _Lords_,' said the Bearded Pard, 'Though all the rest amaze thee, My stumps for thee I'll keenly guard, One faithful bat shall praise thee!' The Champion smacked, and the _Terror's_ reign Could not bring his wicket under; He made the Cornstalk's cunning vain, For he smote each ball like thunder! And said, 'No screw shall baffle me, Thou soul of bowling bravery, This game shall prove old England free, She shall never sink in slavery!' CRICKET ON THE HEARTH