To A Virus

Fantasy Bob has unearthed yet another of Robert Burns’ unacknowledged cricket poems.  

In this ode, the Bard is uncannily prescient of the COVID situation.

Ha! Whaur ye going ye crowlin’ virus

Your impudence begins tae tire us

We’re a’ locked doon as you require us

Plans are wreckit

Ye mak us even mair desirous

For some cricket

A year ago ye cam frae Wuhan

Did Johnson ken whit he was doin?

But cricketers feared the trouble brewin

Wi' good reason

His handshakes nearly brocht his ruin

An' junked the season

Last season’s play was much truncated

And barely started, terminated

Cricketers wi' meagre rations sated

Sang out in glee

Though COVID rules obliterated

Their cricket tea

This season’s prospects are in the balance

Will cricketers get to show their talents?

To Witty, Van Tam, Leitch and Vallance

Sic advisers

We mak our selfish observance

Gie us Pfizers!