Page:Mr. Punch's Book of Sports.djvu/142

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Mr. Punch's Book of Sports


Farewell to thee, Cricket,
  Thy last match is o'er;
Thy bat, ball, and wicket
  Are needed no more.
To thy sister we turn,
  For her coming we pray:
Her worshippers burn
  For the heat of the fray.

Hail! Goddess of battle,
  Yet hated of Ma(r)s,
How ceaseless their tattle
  Of tumbles and scars!
Such warnings are vain,
  For thy rites we prepare,
Youth is yearning again
  In thy perils to share.

Broken limbs and black eyes
  May, perchance, be our lot;
But grant goals and ties
  And we care not a jot.
Too sacred to name
  With thy posts, ball, and field,
There is no winter game
  To which thou canst yield.

Motto for an Impecunious Football Club.—"More kicks than halfpence."