你有大胡子太岁头上动土,你罪ged the original cricket Upon his own hearth, and beaten his men On a genuine English wicket; And so the Australian kangaroo Has a right good right to be proud of you. That you?ve had your even share of the luck We?ll allow, argumenti gratia, But you won the great match by downright pluck, And accordingly Australasia Accords such a welcome to her Eleven As for peaceful triumph never was given. Let us pray that if ever Fate commands Us to step into the arena, With foils without buttons on, hearts and hands Be forthcoming without subpoena To uphold the name of the kangaroo As the Australian Eleven do. May we have a Massie as bold and quick In our van to dismay the foeman, A leader like Murdoch to strike or stick, And yield, like our Murdoch, to no man; And another Horan to lay about him Like Tommy, however the for may ?scout? him. And no lack of ?Palmers? if in extremis, Or of Boyles to plague the Egyptians, Or Garretts to fly to if pressed the team is; Or of men to take all descriptions Of balls which may come at them, quite as coolly As Blackham, who even out-Pooley?s Pooley. May we have a Banner-man stern and staunch In stonewalling as little Sydney, And a giant, his thunderbolt to launch O?er the field, just of Bonner?s kidney; And a dauntless Mac, to strike like a man When our men are falling fast in the van; And all-around men such as Giffen and Jones, And a ?demon? to reinforce us In case we should be over-matched for once And the foe beginning to course us, To come as Spoff like an angel from heaven To help us to beat the English Eleven. To speak in plain English, we pray for this, That if in the struggles before us The tempest of warfare which ravages The Old World no longer blows o?er us, We may show the same skill and dash and pluck, And if we do this we may laugh at luck.