The Aboriginal Cricketer

Mid-9th century

Good-looking young man
In your Crimean shirt
With your willow shield
Up, as if to face spears,

You’re inside their men’s Law,
One church they do obey;
They’ll remember you were here.
Keep fending off their casts.

Don’t come out of character.
Like you they suspect
Idiosyncrasy of witchcraft.
Above all, don’t get out

Too easily, and have to leave here
Where all missiles are just leather
And come from one direction.
Keep it noble. Keep it light.

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The Aboriginal Cricketer