Here are three sticks. I set them up on end
Like so. This is my CASTLE, understand?
My castle. It is mine. I shall defend
It with the weapon in my hand,
This other stick. And you shall have this BALL.
Your weapon is this leather ball. You BOWL
It fast and straight to make my castle fall
If I should fail to strike it with the pole
I call my stick, or rather call my BAT.
But if I do, strike it I mean, I RUN
From here to here, a SCORE to me, and that
Is surely clear enough for anyone.
But here’s some more. My castle is the WICKET.
The ground we call the PITCH. The game is CRICKET.
If, over time, more men desire to play,
We stand them in the field where we have set
The pitch, to CATCH me out, FIELDERS we say,
To FIELD the ball you bowled I hit. And let
These fielders be your TEAM. I will have others,
My team, who take their turn when I am OUT,
When you have hit my wicket, then my brothers
Shall severally go IN. Then, turn about,
Your team goes in to see what they can score
Before we bowl them out. When they are done
We total up the runs. The team with more
Shall celebrate with beer. For they have won
The MATCH. And there is little more to trouble you
Before THE ASHES, LORD’S and LBW.