SWAN SONG

 

 

The breath of gloom is in the air,

Our day is o’er, our death complete.

Singapore could ne’er compare

With such a measure of defeat.

 

            Grace’s face is full of wrath,

            And how droop Fry’s moustaches,

            For England have the sackcloth

            And Australia – the Ashes.

 

Though greatness we have known of yore,

When we were masters of this game,

Never have we known before

A time of such deep grief and shame.

 

            For Hobbs’ lobs have ne’er known sloth

            In all those past Test clashes.

            But England has the sackcloth

            And Australia – the Ashes.

 

 

Longmoor, August 1948