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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 20:05:41 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 28966
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Cricket
[time] => 2003-12-09 05:26:07
[hometext] => Still experimenting
[bodytext] => Village scene, Cricket green, Vicar says words obscene, Lucy plays behind sight screen. Last man in, Lucy’s man Jim, Weak and feeble, rather thin, Six runs needed, we wont win. Bowler is Massive Fred, Every batsman’s dread, Who has it in his head, Get them out or get them dead. A long run up, In the pavilion they sup, This delivery to win the cup, A fiesty rottweiler against a pup. Cracking sound, As with one bound, Although no faith all around, Jim hits the ball down the ground. It flies through the air, Sight screen the ball gets near, Just where Lucy has got so bare, All silent as the ball goes there. Jeds hand on Lucy’s mid wicket, Ball hits Jed’s head and rolls into thicket, Lucy cries “this isn’t cricket!”, But Jim smiles, just the ticket. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 283 [topic] => 7 [informant] => jonteD [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry )
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