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Bashers Cricket Club

Poem

The Ballad of Roland Heath

39, early SeptemberThe call was out, history remembersEach Munkton man was a contenderExcepting one with his disfigured member
The lovely ladies. just wanna do something special for all the ladies in the world More Dr Seuss than Shakespeare

Never Trust a Cricketer… …

Never Trust a Cricketer... Come all ye fair young maidens and harken unto me, Never trust a cricketer, whoever he may be.

Ode to CXVI

There once was a Basher called Sam the ball there is but where i am? he got quite rural one night

Ode to I

There once was a Basher called Paul First on the Bashers roll call A heartbreaker and a loner

Ode to XIV

There once was a basher called John who's balls hang 'round for so long that you can swing at them twice

Ode to C

There once was a basher called Andrew Who fed his roses with man poo He fancied Ollie's Sister

Ode to LXXXVI

There once was a Basher called Hadleigh Who swung the willow madly Give him a burger with beetroot

Ode to XCV

There once was a Basher called Mat Who carried a big red sack What had he in there? Lots of ice cold beer

Ode To XCIII

There Once Was A Basher Called Thomas Through Beer Goggles, Quite The Adonis A Distinguished Sort Of Chap

Ode To XXXIX

There Once Was A Basher Called Ollie A Wicket Keeper By Golly In The Nets He Bowled Well
Past
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