|
Lyrics composed by
John Henderson on 28th December, 2007
Listen to music here
Fifties cricket played,
Oan oor Coonty gruns,
It hid sich rich West Indian flavourin’,
As they piled oan the runs.
Kanhai’s flair wis legend,
Frae Mannofield tae Nor Inch.
His flashin’ blade tormentin’,
Makin’ fielders cow’r an’ flinch.
Bit Iffla doon at Williamfield,
Wis jist as muckle kent,
An’ Stirlin’ fans aft thank’d gweed Lord,
Fur talent He hid sent.
As stumper tae his guile,
I certainly kent aboot a’ that.
Faur less sheer brilliance Iffla showed,
Int field an’ wi’ the bat.
Yin day ahint a thumpin’,
Up Nor frae a’ Kanhai’s crew,
We host’d them at Stirlin’,
Whaur the croods jist grew and grew.
In sich lik’ bull ring bourachin’,
George Youngson wis oan sang.
Oor sma-lik total gaither’d, sayin’,
‘Thit’ll nae delay ‘em lang.’
Whan airly tea’d been slaw-lik’ ta’en,
An’ Kanhai cam’ tae crease,
It luik’d a stane cauld certainty,
Proceedin’s suin wid cease.
Nae cause tae chinge thit prophesy,
Cam efter six ba’s bowled,
As Kanhai thrashed fu’ neenteen runs,
In yin-day cricket mould.
Bit, unlik’ us oor Iffla man,
Wis calm an’ resolute.
‘I’ll set wee trap fur Rohan boy,
An’ git the b-gger oot.’
Trow tae his word oor wily pro,
Suin hid his ‘oppo’ fazed,
Till whan on’t pad he hid him plumb,
Ump’s finger it wis raised.
Frae thit pynt oan Dons sair dumfoonert,
Skyt’d fest agley.
Score bein’ peer they eik’d oot theer,
An’ shoart sim guid lang way!
Skyt’d fest agley
Skyt’d fest agley
Score bein’ sae, sae peer thit syne they eik’d oot theer,
Oow’r shoart sim guid lang way! |
