Another poem with a message. This one involves two great Somerset slow left arm spinners, J.C. ‘Farmer’ White and Jack Leach. Both the poem and the message were requested by a reader. Four verses, each with a word of the message. The message is decipherable without reference to Bletchley Park. Just in case there is any doubt start at the beginning and keep left.
TWO SOMERSET JACKS
Just suppose our spinning Jacks could meet awhile
And swap their tales of batsmen put to flight.
Confer about the dip and drift and the secrets of their style.
Keeping the faith of the art of spin, keeping it shining bright.
For what price to hear a word or two of that precious tete-a-tete?
Or see them bowl an over or two, and in tandem keep it tight
Revealing the styles of the present time and of nineteen-twenty-eight.
The best there was and the best there is, both getting it just right.
How would they then compare their notes of batsmen in disarray?
Endless variations of flight and line each to the other would cite.
And batsmen the country up and down would signal their dismay.
So cast your mind back ninety years to the Ashes of Jack White
He scorched the Aussies at Adelaide with thirteen for two-five-six.
Endlessly flighting and pitching the ball on a spot the size of a mite.
So now, in another Ashes year, may a new Jack ply his tricks.