[Jumbooo]

It was was a dark and cloudy afternoon, when Md Ashraful stepped up to the crease with his bat in one hand and a toluwar in the other hand. All the men before him have sacrificed themselves for their country. There was not a tear nor any sweat in his face. He was prepared to battle. Md Ashraful looked at his enemies eyes, Hermisson was his name. He looked around the battlefield to launch his attack. He was alone, against a group of army who was just waiting to taste his blood.

Md. Ashraful's enemies came at full force: bouncers, yorkers, full tosses. But nothing was able to slow this madman down. He scored and scored some more. Just as he was about to move into his 50, through the corner of his eyes, he saw the villain had a knife to his fathers and mothers throat. He had no choice but to sacrifice. He was then beaten with the ball. He sacrificed his wicket to save the lives of his parents. He is a gracious man.

He went on to conquer many more land, but in all the villain was the far too powerful one. All hail Md Ashraful! Bir! He came, fought and sacrificed all for us. All hail Md Ashraful. Hip Hip Hooray. Hip Hip Hooray!