Here’s where the lads of the village cricket:
I was a lad not wide from here:
Couldn’t I whip off the bail from the wicket?
Like an old world those days appear!
Donkey, sheep, geese, and thatched ale-house—I know them!
They are old friends of my halts, and seem,
Somehow, as if kind thanks I owe them:
Juggling don’t hinder the heart’s esteem.
V
Juggling’s no sin, for we must have victual:
Nature allows us to bait for the fool.
Holding one’s own makes us juggle no little;
But, to increase it, hard juggling’s the rule.
You that are sneering at my profession,
Haven’t you juggled a vast amount?
There’s the Prime Minister, in one Session,
Juggles more games than my sins ’ll count.