by Barry Cryer There once was a fellow called Albert A cricketer dashing and bold Or to be more correct I'll say 'batting and bowled' For there hangs a tale to be told Now Albert was courting a lady A lass by the name Rose Ann Kate And she never stopped praising her idol The great B.J.T. Bosanquet. Yes - him as invented the googly The off-break that's bowled as leg-break And Albert got fed up about it And used to cry: 'For heaven's sake! 'I'll acknowledge the man is a marvel Some would say he's a right pioneer But there's bowlers down here in the village I will claim without favour or fear 'Who can sling 'em down twisting and turning And spinning and breaking and that' Said Rose: 'Now then Albert, let's get one thing straight, When you mention the master, doff hat 'B.J.T. Bosanquet is a wonder A man who is equalled by none And if he came down here to the village Not one of you'd muster a run' 'You're on!' cried our Albert with passion 'Let him bowl at our lads - every one And when he gives up, we'll all show him Exactly how it should be done' 'You're a dreamer, our Albert, you're potty!' The sterling Rose Ann Kate then cried 'You seem to think bowling, like life, lad, Is nobbut a bit on the side' So they posted a letter to London Inviting the great man to tea Then added: 'PS If you'd like to join in, We're having a knock - kick-off three' Well, imagine their trembling excitement When an envelope dropped on the mat Inside was a note from the great B. J.T. Saying: 'Thank you -I'll have some of that' The great day arrived - it were sunny And the lads of the village stood round And somewhere a curlew were singing And the landlord's dog peed on the ground Then up drove a car - it were splendid And the lads all craned forward to see 'By gum!' cried the vicar, 'Have you seen t'licence plate?' And there was inscribed 'B. J.T.' The king of the seam then dismounted To a spirited round of applause And Rose cried: 'You're welcome sir- teach 'em to win! They'll tell you that I can't stand draws!' So the stumps were set up in the sunlight And then the great contest began B.J.T. from both ends - every over And the village turned out to a man It took him ten minutes to do it On the Scoreboard it said: 'All out- Nowt' And they carried him shoulder high after And he said: 'Come on lads, it's my shout!' And they laughed and they sang in The Packhorse And they supped the ale all night in bulk And only one man were nowhere to be seen 'Cos Albert had gone home to sulk Now the ending of this stirring saga Was that B.J.T. drove home to cheers And the lads to this day talk about it As they sup their Old English keg beers 'But what of our Albert?' you ask me 'Did he make young Rose Ann Kate his wife?' No, she married the milkman, so he shot himself I know it's right sad - but that's life.
The end