When the Doctor pulls up as you pass in the street You know he will say:-- 'Well, Rogers, I hear that you suffered defeat-- How many to-day? Not a hundred, I fear; but you always do well, And doubtless you stuck?' It is hard to admit that you could not excel A 'duck.' For the bowling was easy, the wicket was true, And had it not been That you thought the slow trundler was guilty of _screw_ You had driven it clean! How galling to read in the _Sportsman_ next day-- What horrible luck!-- 'H. Rogers (the Captain) caught Grinstead, bowled May, A "duck."' But 'tis worse when your Uncle and sweet Cousin Bell Come over to watch All your wonderful deeds as a very great Swell-- The hope of the match! And Bell asks your score with a traitorous smile. More knowing than Puck; And you say (looking straight in her eyes all the while) A 'duck.' But when Fogson, your rival, makes Four after Four, And Three after Three, And next a grand drive, that adds six to his score, Right over the tree, Bell's eyes with excitement delightedly flash-- She praises his pluck! So you think that the worst of emphatical trash Is 'duck.' ON THE SPOT Nothing comes amiss, Kicker, Shooter, Yorker, How the Champion bangs Lob or cunning Corker! Let the watchers scold Johnny Briggs or Mold, Censure matters not-- Grace is on the Spot! The Champion's on the Spot again To stop the Gloucester Rot again, And bowling goes to Pot again Before the King of Cricket! Hornby rubs his head, Fourer after Fourer! Now the pace is warm Even for the Scorer. This is simply joy-- Lump it in, Old Boy! Don't she travel just? Grace is on the Bust! The Champion's on the Bust again, 'Tis fine to see him Dust again; Don't talk to me of rust again, You grand old King of Cricket! THE HOPE OF SURREY When Surrey ladled out defeat, Who did it? When Notts and Yorks and Kent were beat, Who did it? Lohmann did--George Lohmann-- Something like a yeoman, Neither fast nor slow man, George! Surrey wants you--come again! England wants you--cross the Main! Say Good-bye to Capetown sky, you Best of Georges, come again! Though bowlers good as you should come (Not likely!) From you to them shall fancy roam? Not likely! Soldier, sailor, tinker, Ev'ry proper thinker, Knows you are a clinker, George!