PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 93.
AUGUST 13, 1887.
AT THE OVAL.
Surrey versus Notts. August 1st, 2nd, and 3rd 1887.
(By One of the Fifty Thousand.)
Enthusiastic Surreyite loquitur:—
Hooray! Oh, you must let me holloa. I'm one of the famed "Surrey Crowd,"
And a roar for a win such as this is, cannot be too long or too loud.
Lo! man!
Won by four wickets! As good as though Walter had scored half a million,
Great Scott! what a rush from the ring! what a crowd round the crowded Pavilion!
Lohmann! Maurice Read!! Shuter!!! they shouted. Key!!! Key!!! Lohmann!!! Lohmann!!!
"Took down the number" of Notts, Sir, and she's a redoubtable foeman.
We haven't licked her for years, and she crowed, Sir, and not without reason;
And now, under Shuter, we've done it at last, Sir, and twice in one season!
After a terrible tussle; how oft was my heart in my mouth, Sir.
Luck now seemed to lean to the North, and anon would incline to the South, Sir.
Game wasn't won till 'twas lost. Hooray, though, for Surrey! 'Twas her win.
We missed our Wood at the wicket, Notts squared it by missing her Sherwin,
Both with smashed fingers! Rum luck! But then cricketing luck is a twister.
And Sherwin turned up second innings. Did you twig his face when he missed her,
That ball from J. Shuter, our Captain? It ranked pretty high among matches,
But Surrey did make some mistakes, Sir, and Notts——well, they couldn't hold catches.
Shuter shone up, did he not? Forty-four, fifty-three, and such cutting!
Hooray! Here's his jolly good health, and look sharp, for they're close upon shutting.
Partial be blowed! I'm a Surreyite down to my socks, that's a fact, Sir.
Shrews—bery!
Must shout when my countymen score, and don't mind being caught in the act, Sir.
Cracks didn't somehow come off. Arthur Shrewsbury, Notts' great nonsuch,
Didn't make fifty all told, and our Walter—the world holds but one such—
A poor twenty-five and eighteen—a mere fleabite for W. W.
Still, he's our glory; and if you can spot such another, I'll trouble you.
Grace? Why, of course, in his day he was cock of the walk—that's a moral.
I won't say a word against him; but our Walter!—well, there, we won't quarrel.
I'm Surrey, you know, as I said. I remember Jupp, Humphry, and Stevenson,
Burly Ben Griffith, and Southerton! Well, if it ever was even