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!