This is one of my favourite poems \u2013 it reminds me of simpler times. The subjects in the artwork are my great-grandfather and great-uncle in the 1920\u2019s, Capel, Western Australia, (the dog is no known relation). Enjoy the poem.<\/p>\n
“BACKYARD CRICKET”<\/p>\n
Remember back to younger days when sport was played for fun.
\nWe’d play the game with pure delight beneath the summer sun.
\nWhen a bat could be a tree branch, a can could be a wicket.
\nThe fences marked the boundaries; the rules were backyard cricket.
\nWe would play the game for hours and all would get a turn.
\nWe’d bowl slowly for the small kids; they\u2019d need a chance to learn.
\nBut when a dad or uncle would go up to the crease,
\nWe’d bowl as fast as lightning; all mercy bowls would cease.
\nAnd when it came our turn to bat, we prayed to lady luck,
\n\u2018Please let me get at least a run, not bowled out for a duck!\u2019
\nBut soon we came to learn the fact that losing was no shame,
\nIt\u2019s all about good sportsmanship and how we played the game.
\nFor winning is an empty thing, if everyone is cross.
\nFor all the good it did for you, you may as well have lost.
\nThe greatest match you’ll ever play is not for fame or rates.
\nIt’s in the backyard of your home with family, pets and mates.<\/p>\n