Jickety Pickett

Jickety Pickett, a sucker for cricket,
Would go to a match when he could.
You really must hear
Of a springtime last year,
When his fortune was not very good.

Come back to a day, on a weekend last May
When he woke with a smile and a song.
He was happy at last
For the winter had passed
And his season had just come along.

He checked the forecast and then breakfasted fast,
And departed as soon as he could.
He travelled by train
And then skipped down the lane
To the grounds where the cricket pitch stood.

He liked to wear white,
As he felt it was right.
He was British as well you might know.
In his carrier bag was his lunch and a mag,
(For a read should the going get slow).

He sat in his seat and proceeded to eat
Half a round of tomato and egg.
As they started to bat,
He removed his smart hat
To receive a small plop on his head.

Were the birds out today? Were they flying his way
Dropping messages straight from the sky?
No unfortunately not
And he shivered at what
Was the sun sadly waving goodbye.

The rain thundered down, as the green turned to brown
And the players rushed for the pavilion.
Getting soaked in his seat, ‘till time came to retreat
For one very unhappy civilian.

Jickety Picket, a sucker for cricket,
Returned to his home by the train.
Turning key in the door,
He then vowed never more,
Would he ever go back there again.

The following week, feeling dandy and sleek
He got dressed in his cricketing clothes.
In a fabulous mood,
With his bag full of food,
He’d forgotten all previous woes.

So our story must end as we leave our dear friend
Full of smiles as he goes on his way.
As he climbs on the train,
He’ll be heard to exclaim.
“Well the weather looks better today!”