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