A 9 Pace Runup

A 9 pace run-up

And a quick arm action

Variation in pace,

And guile and deception

The greatest left-armer there has ever been

He can swing it, fire it in,

He can cut it off the seam.

That is our man Wasim Akram

An inswinging yorker

Headed straight for my toe

I step back and

Turn it down to fine leg for four

And now he is mad

And now he races in

Pitches it so short

That it might’ve had hit his shin

Once more I go back

And I pull him for a four.

And that is the over

Captain now will give him no more

Now its Warne who’s coming in

Tries to pitch it up and take me for a spin

It pat it down, and say not now son

Get in line, u’re not the only one.

I expect a flipper and he bowls me one next

I pat it down, Warne scratches his head.

Gotta go back to the stock ball I know

So soon as he runs in, I know it’s gonna be a four

Sure enuff, it pitches and moves to the off

I hit it back of point and then I’m off

Running a quick three, when I know it’s a four

I nudge Warnrey ribs, ask him if we wants some more

And then the alarm rings

Life brings me to and stings

So in my dream i hit my wickets and rush myself out

Next inning will be dreamt up tonight

I bribed the umpire, will be declared not out.