Waxing Lyrical About County Cricket: Middlesex….

Oh I was walking round my local store
Searching for the ten pence off Lord’s
When suddenly I bumped into these guys
On seeing who it was I gave a cry
“Fuckin’ ‘Ell, It’s Middlesex!”

Oh Jane was pushing baby round the park
When all at once she saw her husband Mark
Well he was with a team down by the stream
So Jane and baby both began to scream
“Fuckin’ ‘Ell, It’s Middlesex!”

Oh as the train pulled into platform three
I looked around for my best girl to see
As she disembarked but I didn’t seem to care
‘Cos someone passed that made me stop and stare
Oh Dracula comes from Transylvania
Stevie nicks books about kleptomania
Johnny looked out of his NW9 bedroom window
And shouted to his mum “It’s Middlesex!”

With apologies to ‘Half Man, Half Biscuit’ and Fred Titmus

Waxing Lyrical about County Cricket: Surrey

Surrey, get away
Get a good club with more pay
And you’re O.K.

Surrey, it’s a gas(ometer)
Players grab that cash with both hands
And make a stash

New captain, new direction, four star dream team
Think they’ve bought a cricket team

Surrey get back
They’re all right Jack
Keep your hands off their stash (of players)

Surrey, they’re a hit
Don’t give me that
Do goody good bullshit

They’re in the hi-fidelity
First class-travelling cricketing set
And people think they think they need a Lear jet

Surrey, it’s not a club to hate*
Square that fairly
And don’t take a slice of schadenfreude pie

Surrey, so they say
Are the root of all evil
Today

But if you ask for an appraisal
It’s no surprise that they’re
Well positioned to go all the way
All the way
All the way
All the way
All the way…

*mock when they lose to Cambridge UCCE, yes, but not hate.

Hallelujah (the season is here)

“Hallelujah”

I’ve heard there was a secret shot
That Hildreth played, and it pleased the Lord (Selvey)
But you don’t really care for county cricket, do you?
It goes like this
The leave, the graft
The minor fall of a tailender, the major lift over cover
The baffled king-of-spain composing dossiers.

County cricket, County cricket
County cricket, County cricket

Your faith in Lyth was strong but you needed proof
You saw him batting on the roof
His beauty in the morning light overthrew you
He tied you to your plastic chair
He broke the opposition, and cut them behind square
And from your lips she drew the “Hallelujah!” (Scyld Berry’s got another player to champion every Sunday)

County cricket, County cricket
County cricket, County cricket

But I have been here before
I know this room, I’ve walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew it.
I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
The championship is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a brutal six month slog.

County cricket, County cricket
County cricket, County cricket

There was a time when Scyld Berry let me know
What’s really going on below
But now he never shows it to me, do you?
And remember when I sat next to you
The Graeme Swann was bowling too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

County cricket, County cricket
County cricket, County cricket

Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from County cricket
Was how to drive at someone who bowled an outswinger at you.
It’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not those fans who haven’t seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a brilliant county season

County cricket, County cricket
County cricket, County cricket

You say I took the name of this song in vain
I don’t even know the name
But if I did, well, really, what’s it to you?
There’s a blaze of light in every world
It doesn’t matter which you like
The IPL or the “Broken” County cricket

County cricket, County cricket
County cricket, County cricket

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel outside off, so I tried to touch to leg
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it will all go wrong for Essex
I’ll stand before the Lord Selvey of Uphill-into-the-Wind
With nothing on my tongue but county cricket

County cricket, County cricket
County cricket, County cricket

(Apologies to Leonard Cohen)