Scarborough

It’s close to eleven and something evil’s lurking

In the pitch

Under the light Β you see a sight that almost stops

Your heart

You try to scream, but terror takes the sound before

You make it

You start to freeze as horror looks you right between

The eyes

You’re paralyzed

 

‘Cause this is Scarborough, Scarborough festival

And no one’s gonna save you from the beast about to

Strike

You know it’s Scarborough, Scarborough festival

You’re fighting for your life on a green pitch

Scarborough today

 

You see the ball pitch and realize there’s nowhere

Left to go

You feel the cold edge and wonder if you’ll ever see

A run

You close your eyes and hope that this is just

Imagination

But all the while you hear Amir creepin’ up

Foster’s Behind

You’re out of time

 

‘Cause this is Scarborough, Scarborough festival

There ain’t no second chance against the Essex attack with

Forty bowling points

You know it’s Scarborough, Scarborough festival

You’re fighting for your life on a green pitch

Scarborough today

 

Essex bowlers call

And the club starts to walk in their masquerade

There’s no escapin’ the jaws of the Foster this time

(They’re open wide)

This is the end of your title hopes

 

They’re out to get you; there’s bowlers closing in on

Every side

They will possess you unless you change the number on

Your shirt.

Now is the time for you and I to cuddle Brian Close

Together

All through the day I’ll save you from the terrors on

The pitch

I’ll make you see

 

That it’s a Scarborough, Scarborough festival

‘Cause I can thrill you more than any ghost

Would ever dare try

Girl, this is Scarborough, Scarborough festival

So let me hold you tight and share a new ball

Scarborough here today

 

That it’s a Scarborough, Scarborough festival

‘Cause I can thrill you more than any ghost

Would ever dare try

Girl, this is Scarborough, Scarborough festival

So let me hold you tight and share a new ball

 

Darkness falls across the land

The Sidebottom hour is close at hand

Batsman crawl in search of runs

To terrorize y’awl’s neighborhood

And whosoever shall be found

Without the soul for getting down

Must stand and face the hounds of hell

And rot inside a Hopps’ toilet shell

 

The foulest stench is in the air

The funk of forty thousand overs

And grizzly bowlers from every tomb

Are closing in to seal your doom

And though you fight to stay alive

Your body starts to shiver

For no mere batsman can resist

The evil of the Scarborough festival.

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