By Keith Sowerbutts, Oswald Street, Accrington.

A drama played out on a cricket field,
Scenes that were set to appal
No doubting arguments, rows and perusing rules,
And all for a cricket ball.

Before the game the offending object,
Shiny bright red with a seam
An offensive weapon to batsmen
At the outside a fast bowler's dream.

There's no doubt in the course of an innings,
The bat connected hundreds of times,
Landing against boards, seats, and other hard objects,
Any marks that were made, not a crime.

So the game is stopped at the umpire's discretion
At strange scuffs which appeared on the ball,
Which led to the spectators dissolution
End result, there is no play at all.

Surely the overriding thing
Was to give the spectators a show
To push on with the game, decide things later
In due time, they'd be in the know.

But no, laws are laws and must be adhered to
Just for marks made too close to call
Never mind the paying spectators
And all for the sake of a BALL!