The Crack Of The Willow

(album: Cool Water - 1995)

On Sunday the question rose again
And the season began with a smile
A small village green and a handful of men
Battle for their pride
A flash of the whitening that goes on the pad
A whiff of the linseed oil shows
And the umpire cheeks that the bat is quite straight
Before they bowl

Down down like madman
His arms reaches over his head
He bowls, the crack of the willow and leather
You'll wish you were dead
The crowd that you once thought were all fast asleep
Have now woken up and are standing on their feet
The game is not won by your six runs for sure
So they call for more, call for more, call for more

The sun is in their eyes the advantage is yours
You sense there's a victory here
When lunchtime is called not a moment too soon
For a flask of beer
The old boys will say you're a chip off the block
And you'll be a "jolly little fellow"
But you know after lunch that the
Bowler is not going to let you go

Down down like a madman
His arms reaches over his head
He bowls, the crack of the willow and the leather
You'll wish you were dead
This time your eyes meet, his judgement was right
You slice at it wildly
It was nowhere in sight
You're so cleanly bowled and that its their turn for sure
To be called for more, called for more
Called for more

Come Sunday evening the result is a draw
The English style conquers again
Strategy dressed up in a white flannel clothes
For a band of men
When you go to the pub you're all heroes today
Drink with the sun going down
A challenge once more will be set
That's for sure
On another ground

Down down like a madman
The drink will go straight to your head
"Ouch" the crack pf the hangover
Tomorrow you'll wish you were dead
You find your way and you fall asleep
The crowd that you dream of are standing on their feet
The six runs you gave were a hundred for sure
And they call for more, call for more, call for more