Poetry by Jeff Green


The groundsman’s tale

by cricketjeff on April 4, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

Each morning in the summer he is there,
So many jobs for just one pair of hands;
At least he has a wife who understands,
For half the year he’s married to his square.
In playing days he showed a little flare —
But now his grass is mown in tidy bands,
The finest sight in all these sporting lands,
A village green for everyone to share.

On Saturday he rolls his perfect pitch,
Then tells the captain “it’ll seam today.”
Too busy with his tools to scratch the itch
That every cricket groundsman feels, to play.
Now win or lose, it doesn’t matter which,
The master of the green is here to stay!