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From now on should I play,yea, in straight bat,

No break away from this, I must see that,

'cause I'm nearing the target of  Fifty

Points for which I must be careful, thrifty.

If I hit and miss ,the Keeper won't spare

To stump me out e'en for a breadth of hair.

Hence my mind,concentration and my bat

Must be in a together-tie so that

Two single runs can take me to Fifty,

Which for long this composer of Seventy

Been longing for his endeared sailorbits,

That has pledged to offer its members treats

                         When the Cipher claims he is one hundred,

                         It's a question of anxiety and dread.

                         When the Empty puffs to pose he's top full,

                         It's,true,a headache for all but the fool.

                         When Volume's the logic and blood-shot eyes

                         Flabbergast you,remember,the man shies

                         Past that which is Right and that which is fact

                         And when