Flatten the Hay

Finding the sun in an Irish summer

Is somewhat akin to Russian roulette... anyway

We would spend August in Arklow and Courtown

And I would be clutching my cricket set. Gotta play!

Jump over walls, flatten the hay

A quick evening session before we could even

Have time to reflect on our holiday commencing

Will we play football or go pitch and putting? We know we have

Swing-ball but we'd always plump for the gentlemen's game

Yellow the grass, flatten the hay. All day...

The farmer would come before the bad weather

Our pavilion would seem like a blur in the ether

The night would creep in on our Indian summer

But tomorrow would bring a new crease to discover

D.i and I.t, Gatting and Willey

May sound so silly to the uninitiated

For me and my brother they conjured up visions

Of heroes who stood against all of the things that we hated

Let's jump over walls and flatten the hay

All day... all summer long

When we were young