Norman Rowland Gale (Норман Гейл)
Out
O very potent little word,
'Out!'
How often have we sadly heard
'Out!'
When stupid umpires surely sin,
Just as to settle we begin,
And say, in place of saying 'in,'
'Out!'
Though I am Captain of the team,
'Out!'
Though I in doubt may gravely seem,
'Out!'
Though I have barely scored a run
My average goes down with one,
And other Bats must have the fun--
'Out!'
I see Jones laugh behind his hand--
Out!
Next match, by Jove, the brute shall stand
Out!
Our cousin, Lydia Lake, is here,
And in her eyes I would appear
A Swell; _hinc illae_--Jones's sneer--
Out!
Ah! lucky Jones begins to hit
Out!
Another four! I wish he'd get
Out!
I see him look where Lydia sits
To note if she applauds his hits--
She does! She'll burst her gloves to bits!--
Out!
Yet why should I be Jones's butt,
Out?
I have a plan that chap to cut
Out!
What boots it thus to mope, my soul?
I go to sit by Lydia. Scowl,
O Jones, for you, methinks, I bowl
Out!
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