Ootacamund – Snooker and colonial Britain

I

There’s a fine old town in high Tamil

That’s perched amidst its verdant hills,

A tribal land that oft changed hands

Once grand Tipu’s then Englishman’s.

In barracks up and down the land

These foreign devils turned their hand,

To a testing, tough and tricky game

That soon would win worldwide acclaim.

In smoky rooms the rules were set

Some gin was supped and rupee bet,

A red and pink or red and black

Fi-erce alike sepoy attack.

These officers and company men

Artists with cue like Rud with pen,

They brought to us our cherished game

Oota-camund saw the first frame.

II

White is the face of colonial man

Yellow is the sun from Madras to East Ham

Green is the baize on which ivory does roll

Brown flows the Ganges n Indus anole

Blue are the gems that they scavenge like rats

Pink is the dusk over wild Western Ghats

Black is the lead that is shot from their gun

Red are the coats from which natives do run.

III

Top break Sir Nev I do declare

You’ve wiped the floor ‘‘twas fair and square

Them pinks and blacks you had a flowing

I struggled tho, where’st cue ball going?