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Rh for an hour to watch them play,
 * Those heroes dead and gone,

And pit our batsmen of to-day
 * With those of Hambledon!

Our Graces, Nyrens, Studds, and Wards,
 * In weeks of sunny weather,

Somewhere upon Elysian swards,
 * To see them matched together!

Could we but see how Small withstands
 * The three-foot break of Steel,

If Silver Billy's 'wondrous hands'
 * Survive with Briggs or Peel!

If Mann, with all his pluck of yore,
 * Can keep the leather rolling,

And, at a crisis, notch a score,
 * When Woods and Hearne are bowling!

No doubt the Doctor would bewitch
 * His quaint top-hatted foes,

Though, on a deftly chosen pitch,
 * Old Harris bowled his slows;

And Aylward, if the asphodel
 * Had made the wicket bumpy,

Would force the game with Attewell,
 * And Stoddart collar Lumpy