Scene: St George's Field, in the Kingdom of Denmark.
Fortinbras and his army approach.
ACT I
As bitter wind whipped across the blasted heath,
A band of men sought sanctuary beneath
A Royal Oak, near th' sporting ground of Kings,
Where deer once were hunted, in sunnier Springs.
But no soon'r had the Team of Ten arrived
Than their chosen fath'r, Chairman O, contrived
To lose his nether raiment, trousers white,
And with them seemed to vanish all his fight.
For all men know what naked soldiers need:
A tailor - or at least a noble steed
To carry dress for battle from afar.
Failing that, a wife or girlfriend in a car.
But Andy had no saviour near enough,
And took the field of battle in the buff.
No Scottish strap had he, nor trusty kilt,
As Jock was slain by John, who, bearing guilt,
Offered up instead a host of merry pants -
Clean, he claimed, and wholly free from ants
Were they - but hardly strong enough to lift
A Chairman's drooping spirit, this paltry gift.
So unhappy men bent weary shoulders
To th' task, while twixt rival chairmen smouldered
Embers others could not grasp - perhaps
A heat from past elections, or th' lapse
Of days since last they met. Much time apart
Surely sharpens pangs of passion from the heart.
Such were the struggles amid the showers
That drenched the scene, it seemed that mighty powers
Must intervene. And so the Captain, hurt,
But brave, returned again to lead us into the dirt.
ACT II
And this is how the tragedy unfolds:
Attacks came early and the Rock was bowled;
Then the Vice - wielding pick - unleashed The Shot,
But a second saw him sadly lose the plot.
Lurpak dropped as low as mallards fly
But could not evade the umpire with one eye.
Heroic hitting at the last from Max,
Alas, merely delayed the quivv'ring axe.
Only Selfish Batting kept the team afloat,
Till even Simon fell. With him sank the boat.
ACT III
At Tea, the ten slain men did eat and drink
But Amy's absent cake, so some did think,
Left void what even Ham could not re-fill.
A stirring speech from Skipper was the pill
Which waked our wounded heroes from their sleep,
And led them to the field again, to keep
Their noble breasts puffed out with London pride
So they could say, "If nothing else, we tried."
ACT IV
And so they fought again, with arrow and sling,
Bending their backs to tempt the ball to swing,
And these determined efforts brought reward:
Twenty runs and four key wickets on the board.
From the teeth of death, they pulled new life,
And it seemed that e'en amidst the fearful strife
This Team of Ten might steal a famous win.
And, Lo! Pigs did fly above the inn!
ACT V
For strapless jocks and spikeless socks, and even
Borrowing Andy's box could not help Stephen
Or his comrades overcome the Actors,
Who had with them the fortune and factors
Beyond the reach of even Swooping Jay;
Chief of them, The Limpet, whose lengthy stay
Crushed all hope from within the Team of Ten
And sent our wounded heroes to the bar again.
Here, scores would be settled and wounds licked,
While two chairmen, in their own war, bit and kicked;
A famous fight-back had come to naught,
And all in the name of leisurely sport.
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