There wasn’t that much cricket, just eighteen days in all
So we’ve taken up another sport in lieu of bat and ball
Our batsmen forced our hands, for they just refused to linger
And here begins the game called Let’s Point the Ashes Finger.
The rot set in when Pup announced he’s hanging up the pads
And Aussie cricket greats lined up to kick him in the nads
Said Haydos, he’s a prickly sort; said Symonds, he can’t lead
Buchanan claimed for Baggy Green, the captain wouldn’t bleed.
Pup was having none of it: “I’ve never heard such twaddle.
The egos of these yesteryears I shouldn’t have to coddle.
We have a really awesome team, we’ve even got three Mitches
The blame for this debacle? That’s easy. It’s the pitches.”
Warnie got in on the act; he referenced Symonds’ boozing
Buchanan’s words he said were those of someone used to losing.
“We didn’t lose the Ashes through what happened in the middle,
First Marshy dropped Brad Haddin, then he went with Peter Siddle.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Marsh, “I’m just the bloke who picks the team.
I wasn’t out there batting like I couldn’t read the seam.”
Boof Lehmann added his two cents: “That Warnie’s short of learning,
But the day he shuts his bloody trap is when the world stops turning.”
“I blame the WAGs,” said Ian Heals, “they’re such a big distraction.”
Another six or seven months and he’ll be out of traction.
The blame was batted here and there, with drives and blocks and bashes,
Such application on the field and we’d still have the Ashes.
Trevor Bayliss, once a mate, now coaching the old enemy,
Opined the Aussie batting had the spine of an anemone.
The Poms said: “Maybe it was us, we did play rather well.”
Down Under that suggestion’s our idea of cricket hell.
But I think I’ve found a culprit on whom we can agree
A bloke who’s all-round talents at important moments flee
Yes, I’ve finally solved the mystery of this Ashes blame game Lotto
It’s really very simple. We can blame it all on Watto.