My plain old cricket bat sitting by the garden door,

sometimes I take it down to the moor.

I'd love to play cricket, with Lemony Snicket,

but I'm scared the ball, would get lost in the thickets.

The pitch that I've found, goes for miles around,

It's not hot or stuffy, just nice and normal.

I went to play, but that very same day,

the clouds decided to empty.

When I got home,

my cricket bat complained:

"I can't belive that we din't,

get to play!"