I’m batting at eternal number ten.

My mediocre talent falls apart;

Soon I’ll be walking back on nought again.

 

I’m in a team of skilled, well-coached young men,

Convincing me that cricket is an art.

I’m batting at eternal number ten.

 

I do not move my feet or sidestep when

A lethal bouncer flies towards my heart.

Soon I’ll be walking back on nought again.

 

I play and miss and run byes now and then;

My innings never has a proper start.

I’m batting at eternal number ten.

 

Below me is eleven, ‘Rabbit’ Ken,

But he has cunning wrist spin to impart.

Soon I’ll be walking back on nought again.

 

With every failing stroke, the scorer’s pen

Marks down my dream like some offending dart.

I’m batting at eternal number ten;

Soon I’ll be walking back on nought again.