The Lament

[Intro] [Verse 1] (All Three Baritones, in thunderous harmony, drums pounding) Behold! The crimson ball ascends the sky! A simple chance! Yet hands, like stone, deny! (Chiming crescendo) O fielder, slack and blind, you let it fall! Such graceless palms betray the noble call! (Drums intensify, voices seething) The crowd doth weep, the heavens crack with scorn— Another gift, by English hands, is torn! [Chorus] (Disgust dripping, chiming strikes like shattered glass) O ENGLAND! Shame upon thy fumbling grasp! Where skill should reign, ineptitude doth clasp! (Drumbeats like funeral march) The leather flies, yet slips thy cursed hold— A tale of drops, more wretched to behold! [Verse 2] (Baritone 1, low and bitter) Now see the bat! A hero takes his guard! (Baritone 2 & 3, mocking) He swings! He misses! Fate deals the card! (Drums stagger, chiming mocks) A reckless lunge! A run-out most absurd! (Baritone 3, growling) The stumps lie flat—no protest, not a word! (All, voices thick with loathing) The bat is thrown, the head in disgrace bows— Another fool departs to jeers and vows! [Chorus] (Savage harmony, chiming and drums collide) O ENGLAND! Shame upon thy fumbling grasp! Where skill should reign, ineptitude doth clasp! The wickets fall to folly’s cheap decree— Thy batsmen kneel to rank stupidity! [Outro]