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poetry

Wither, English willow

last year, at the start of January

George Patterson, an Australian, has offered his thoughts on the Ashes…as a poem.

Food for thought

The MBE is in oversupply
H.M. is in a dither,
English Willow, once straight and true
Now appears to wither.

The Balmy Army of true Brits
Sit within the sheltered bank,
To each award a feathered chapeau
And a ‘Garter’for each shank.

In melodious voice they chant for ‘Reign’
Then give a lusty cheer,
“God Bless our noble saintly George…
But First.. God Bless the Aussie beer!”

England’s resident Ashes poet

2 years ago, at the end of December

I’ve forgotten all about England’s resident Ashes poet, David Fine, who was despatched by the Arts Council to cover England’s tour. Rod reminds me, and here’s David’s entry from Boxing Day

I saw England collapse again,
Collapse again, collapse again,
I saw England collapse again,
On Boxing Day in Melbourne.

Warnie got 5 for 39,
5 for 39, 5 for 39,
Warnie got 5 for 39,
On Boxing Day in Melbourne.

It gets better.

Grump, grump, grump I’m Glen McGrath,
Grump, grump, galumph, galgrumpalumph, I’m Glen McGrath,
I’ll bend your ear from here to the dressing room
And back again, over after over till you edge or miss
The point of my delivery

I’m not sure what to make of it, especially the first one, but I never quite got my head around stanzas and all that malarky. Your thoughts and submissions, please.

[tags]david fine, poetry, ashes poet, england in australia, ashes, the ashes[/tags]

Meanwhile, some photos from Devon.

Stormy scene on Slapton Sands

Sunny winter scene at Slapton Ley