The controversy raging over the question of leg-theory bowling in cricket inevitably reminds one that the game of life is very much like that.

Oh, what a pleasant game is life
   When we are bravely batting
And glorying in skill and strife.
   We scorn defensive patting
As Fate sends down the easy ones
   We set the ball a-soaring
Straight to the fence and pile up runs
   And go on scoring, scoring.
 
A week it lasts, a month, a year --
   Ten years if luck holds steady
No crafty trick may wake our fear,
   For every move we're ready
No matter how the ball is bumped.
   We are so sure, so clever
We can't be caught or bowled or stumped
   We're set!  We're in forever!
 
But comes a time, as I have found,
   When in our carefree playing,
Life's game in this vast cricket ground
   Grows suddenly dismaying.
Just as we think we're set to peg
   Away, thro' centuries rolling,
Fate shifts his fieldsmen to the leg
   And starts in body bowling!

"Den"
Herald, 24 January 1933, p6

This Poem was also published in the collection:
More than a Sentimental Bloke.