Spencer T: How McDougall Topped The Score

"HOW McDOUGALL TOPPED THE SCORE" - Thomas E. Spencer  (1845-1910)

A peaceful spot is Piper's Flat. The folk that live around - They
keep  themselves  by keeping sheep and turning up the ground; But
the climate is erratic, and the  consequences  are The   struggle
with  the  elements  is everlasting war.  we plough, and sow, and
harrow - then sit down and pray for rain; And  then  we  all  get
flooded  out  and  have to start again.  But the folk are now re-
joicing as they ne'er rejoiced before, For we've  played  Molongo
cricket, and McDougal topped the score!

Molongo had a head on it, and challenged us  to  play  A  single-
innings  match  for  lunch - the losing team to pay.  We were not
great guns at cricket, but we couldn't well say, "No!" So we  all
began  to  practise,  and  we let the reaping go.  We scoured the
Flat for ten miles round to muster up our men, But when the  list
was  totalled  we  could  only number ten.  Then up spoke big Tim
Brady: he was always slow to speak, And he said  -  "What   price
McDougal, who lives down at Cooper's Creek?"

So we sent for old McDougal, and he stated  in  reply  That  he'd
never  play at cricket, but he'd half a mind to try.  He couldn't
come to practise - he was getting in his hay, But he guessed he'd
show  the  beggars from Molongo how to play.  Now, McDougal was a
Scotchman, and a canny one at that, So he started in to  practise
with  a  paling  for a bat.  He got Mrs Mac. to bowl him, but she
couldn't run at all, So he trained his sheep-dog, Pincher, how to
scout and fetch the ball.

Now, Pincher was no puppy; he was old, and worn, and grey; But he
understood  McDougal,  and  -  accustomed to obey - When McDougal
cried "Fetch it!" he would fetch it in a trice,  But, until   the
word  was  "Drop  it!"  he  would  grip it like a vice.  And each
succeeding night they played until the light grew dim;  Sometimes
McDougal  would  strike  the ball - sometimes the ball stuck him!
Each time he struck, the  ball would  plough  a  furrow  in   the
ground, And when he missed the impetus would turn him three times
round.

The fatal day at length arrived - the day that was to see Molongo
bite the dust, or Piper's Flat knocked up a tree!  Molongo's cap-
tain won the toss, and sent his men in to bat, And they gave some
leather-hunting  to  the men of Piper's Flat.  When the ball sped
where McDougal stood, firm planted in his  track,  He  shut   his
eyes,  and turned him round, and stopped it - with his back!  The
highest score was twenty-two, the  total  sixty-six,  When  Brady
sent a yorker down and scattered Johnson's sticks.

Then Piper's Flat went in to bat, for glory and renown, But, like
the  grass  before  the  scythe, our wickets tumbled down.  "Nine
wickets down for seventeen, with fifty more to win!" Our  captain
heaved  a  heavy  sigh, and sent McDougal in.  "Ten pounds to one
you'll lose it!" cried a barracker from town; But McDougal   said
"I'll  tak'  it mon!" and planked the money down.  Then he girded
up his moleskins in a self-reliant style, Threw off his  hat  and
boots, and faced the bowler with a smile.

He held the bat the wrong side  out,  and  Johnson  with  a  grin
Stepped  lightly  to the bowling crease, and sent a "woobler" in;
McDougal spooned it softly back, and Johnson waited  there,   But
McDougal,   crying  "Fetch  it!"  started running  like  a  hare.
Molongo shouted "Victory! He's out as sure as eggs." When Pincher
started  through  the  crowd, and ran through Johnson's legs.  He
seized the ball like lightning; then he ran  behind  a  log,  And
McDougal kept on running, while Molongo chased the dog!

They chased him up, they chased him down, they chased him  round,
and  then  He  darted  through  a slip-rail as the scorer shouted
"Ten!" McDougal puffed; Molongo swore; excitement was intense; As
the  scorer  marked  down  twenty,  Pincher cleared a barbed-wire
fence.   "Let  us  head  him!"  shrieked  Molongo.   "Brain   the
mongrel  with   a   bat!" "Run it out! Good ol' McDougal!" yelled
the men of Piper's Flat.  And McDougal  kept  on   jogging,   and
then   Pincher doubled  back,  And  the scorer  counted  "Forty!"
as they raced across the track.

McDougal's legs were going fast, Molongo's breath was gone -  But
still  Molongo  chased the dog - McDougal struggled on.  When the
scorer shouted 'Fifty!" then they knew the chase would cease; And
McDougal  gasped  out "Drop it!" as he dropped within his crease.
Then Pincher dropped the ball, as instinctively he knew   Discre-
tion   was  the  wiser  plan,  he  disappeared from  view; And as
Molongo's beaten men, exhausted lay  around we  raised   McDougal
shoulder high, and bore him from the ground.

We bore him to McGinniss's,  where  lunch  was  ready  laid,  And
filled  him  up  with  whiskey-punch, for which Molongo paid.  We
drank his health in bumpers,  and  we  cheered  him three   times
three,  And  when  Molongo  got  it's  breath, Molongo joined the
spree.  And the critics say they never saw a cricket  match  like
that,  When  McDougal broke the record in a game at Piper's flat;
And the folk are jubilating as they never  did  before;  For   we
played Molongo cricket - and McDougal topped the score!

Thanks to Phil Elliott on r.s.c.
 Contributed by The Management (help@cricinfo.com)