There was a fine team called Pacific,
Who never seem to take a wicket,
Their fingers are buttery,
Dropped catches compulsory,
But they do so love village cricket

There was a fine team called Pacific
Well versed in the sweet science of cricket
'83 it all started
Spandau Ballet had charted
Several pence the price of tube tickets

There was a fine team called Pacific,
For whom cricket was their duty civic,
They play at Wray Crescent,
But a Porsche-owning peasant,
Tried to evict them - why? This game's so pleasant!

There was a fine team called Pacific
Their cricket, at times was terrific
But when it was poor
It was hard to endure
And the stench from the kit bag’s horrific.

By Smith, Mullens, Haill, and Ireland