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Autumn wraps up in her
Wellies for splashing and kicking
Through puddles of leaves, conkers and mud
Her colours changing but constant
Is the season going the way that it should?
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Winter blows in frost and snow
Shakes off autumn from her pitch
But me and dad we still go hardened
Soldiers to the cause we will not falter
Well past frozen half to death!
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Spring like Yeats’ love such yellow hair
And scorching blue her watchful eyes
All new threads designer wares
Dressed up for the season’s end
We’ll hibernate from cricket then!