In honour of the World Cup
Down the shaft they shouted "Larwood!"
Short and stocky from the cage,
Strode a man to bowl for England,
In a dim remembered age.
Muscles tempered at the coal-face,
Body primed and all aglow,
Eager for the fields of battle;
Ghostly fields of long ago.
Diamond-hard from hewing 'diamonds',
Fame that grew round half the world;
From modest starts on local pitches
Headline banners were unfurled.
Larwood, Voce spearhead battalions,
Of sporting pitmen down the years;
Hard-fought contests, deeds of glory;
Memories shine on through time's tears.
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Friday Poetry Corner
Just think!
some night the stars will gleam
Upon a cold, grey stone,
And trace a name with silver beam,
And lo!
'It will be your own.
That night is speeding on to greet
Your epitaphic rhyme.
Your life is but a little beat
Within the heart of Time.
A little gain, a little pain,
A laugh, lest you may moan;
A little blame, a little fame,
A star-gleam on a stone.
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