SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 181

Report by Edward Blishen An anthology of cricket verse has recently been published. But w should all the songs he sung of outdoor games and the humbler thril of the parlour be ignored ? To redress the balance readers were aske to fake items (by the well-known or Anon) for an anthology of verse

• celebrating the minor indoor games from Snakes and Ladders down- wards.

The playing fields of' Eton ? No : rather the ludo boards of—

well, anywhere in England. To quote Rhoda Tuck Pook :

Soon is forgotten the boyhood game,

But deep are the thoughts a grown man thinks Whose gritted teeth and stiff lip came From the rigours and glories of tiddley-winks.

Here was a flood of affectionate a--id nostalgic verse. Reading it was like peering into some Dutch interior, crammed with children quietly cheating and adults narrow-eyed with the need to win. In a corner the Rev. Walter McLary's grandparents are playing halma :

Tense with advice, all at the board assemble :

" Yes, Grannie, there 1" "No, Grandpa—oh, he's lost I " The sailor in the background is H. A. Standen : playing not Judo, but " ukkers " (" Solace of lower deck, a boon to their lordships aft."). Yonder is 'R. Kennard Davis's Richard II, debating death in terms of noughts and crosses :

Ah, thou hast set three crosses in a row, A triple X, to signify my bier !

A game of darts is being supervised by Allan M. Laing : Bring him the dartboard many-holed : Bring him his flights of leathered fire : Give him the floor--O Foi tune bold,

Give him the doubles all desire I

And there by the piano stands Frances Collingwood, musing to

herself as the children play : •

How sweet the sound of rumps on wooden floors, At music's quick suspension ! How rare to find such simple laws'

In such a game of tension !

Prize-giving was as difficult as throwing a six first go. I reluctantly huflbd those I have quoted : and I had to abandon, one throw from home, Nancy Gunter, W. Bernard Wake, 'R. B. Browning, Francys Heritage, Douglas Hawson, L. W. Keates and J. C. Beckett. Doubt- wrung umpire, then, I recommend equal division of the prize among those printed below.

PRIZES

(GRAEME WILSON)

" Family Reunion " Grishkin and sly Eugenides Played double-bezique for kisses. They, Whose hands made common-marriage play, Built sequences upon their knees.

In double-patience half-engrossed, Fat Sweeney watched their double game : A knave, he thought, by any name Remains a jackanapes at most.

While in the shadows' sombre grove

Between the dresser and the shelf, Madame Sosostris, swathed in mauve, Aura pro nobis, crossed herself,

.12ached for the Happy Families pack, Cut twice, looked down ; and Death looked back.

(ROGER NORDEN)

Isage Watts on Blind Man's Buff How sad it seems, dear child unwise,

Who scarce bath light enough, That you should bandage your fair eyes And play at Blind Man's Buff !

How sad that friends beloved should shun,

Your seeking hands should tease,. To corner, curtain, cupboard, run,

Or crawl upon their knees.

Beware you do not practice guile To see the others' toes, And trick the loosely fastened veil, By peeping down your nose.

This warning heed, that if you hug These sins of blind desire, You may trip o'er the parlour rug And fall into the FIRE.

(G. J. BLUNDELL) Whist (Anon)

The square of light is flat upon the baize. Tongues fall to silence, hands to work ; the pack Is shuffled, cut ; the cards fall separate ways, And fortune waits on each secretive back.

Now they are gathered up, looked in the face, And giv) yet a closer scrutiny, While owners finger each discovered ace With outward imperturbability.

And now the game is on ; a trump-card clicks Against its challenger. Joy and suspense, • Envy and hope attend the mounting tricks, And every other care is driven hence.

Kingdoms may rock, and powerful empires fall, Creditors wait, and lovers go unkissed ; Here sit four hredless creatures, held in thrall By that seductive queen of pastimes, Whist.

(H. ELAM) The Northern Farmer Again

Wheer 'as to bean saw long and mea liggin"ere aloan ? Noorse ? thourt nowt o' a noorse whoy, Doctor's abean an' agodn. Says that.1 moant plait)/ loodoli naw moor : but I beant a fool : Git ma the boo'ard, fur 1 beam a gawing to break my rule.

Doctors, they knows nowt, fur a says gaame gobs to my 'ead. I says, I'll shak anither six afoar I'm dead.

Parson's a bean loikwise, and a saays it's a gailme o' chance.

If a deer'd plaay, 1 reckons I'd lead a dance.

Noorse 1 'annoi nowt to lurn about this 'ear gailme. What atta stannin' theer fur, I'll plaay just the sa'ame. If the amoighty's a tatikin' o' me to my last ooLim, why then 1'11 cotch thee an' sen' thee ociam afotir I gobs mysen..

(H. A. C. EvANs) From Pope's Tiddlywinksiad Now press th' aspiring champions round the board Whereon is rang'd the party-colour'd horde ; While, plain to view, the vase that is their goal With gaping maw awaits its proper toll. Anon a hush o'er all th' assembly falls And Ceremoniarius loudly calls : " First in the lists 1 bid Clarissa come ; The rest give place, and keep their voices dumb."

As when Diana parts the clouds at night

And fills the heavens with effulgent light, So fair Clarissa, willing to obey, Divides the throng and arms her for the fray.

Her milk-white fingers, with depressive force, Speed the slim counters on aerial course : Heedful they fly in swift parabolas, Then, midst loud plaudits, sink within the vase.